


Ode to Power

by Tat_Tat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, BDSM, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dom/sub, F/F, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Full gay, Glove Kink, Gloves, Kink Negotiation, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Objectification, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Pick Up Play, Platonic BDSM, Platonic Sex, Restraints, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shibari, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Strap-Ons, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Teasing, Useless Lesbians, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators, Voyeurism, except Moira and Mercy's bdsm won't be platonic, lesbian sheep syndrome, watersports mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-03-23 03:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 44,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13778319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: Angela starts working at a sex toy shop to make ends meet when she comes across a book that awakens a desire she never imagined laid dormant within her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone in the discord channel that encouraged me to write this. Special mention to CyborgShepard for influencing a certain dialogue exchange in this chapter.
> 
> *There are multiple pairings in this fic but since Moira/Mercy is the main pairing I'm not tagging them in. However, I won't surprise you all. Other pairings include:  
> -Emily/Lena/Amélie  
> -Amélie/Gerard  
> -Genji/Zenyatta  
> -Hanzo/McCree  
> -Fareeha/Satya  
> -past Fareeha/Angela  
> -D.VA / Sombra

The shop was two blocks away from her apartment, and when she had passed it last week there was a ‘Now Hiring’ sign in the window. Angela hoped to change that, shifting in an uncomfortable metal folding chair in front of the hiring manager. 

The manager had introduced herself as Moira O’Deorain and her handshake was firmer than Angela’s. Her fingers and her nails were long and Angela wondered if they were natural, and how she worked wearing them that way.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” 

Angela was embarrassed to say she’d been caught off guard, thinking about Moira’s nails.

Moira cleared her throat. After a pause she raised her eyes to Angela. “Our shop’s wares may be unconventional but it is a business like any other, Ms. Ziegler. Just answer the questions like you would for a grocery or convenience store.”

“Right.” Angela controlled her voice and somehow she found a way to answer the question and the ones that followed. Her friends had told her stretching the truth was a part of landing a job, and while Angela didn’t like to lie, her savings were running low.

“And you’re aware of what our business is and have no issue with that?” Moira asked. Ot had been the first question she asked Angela, and now it was the last. 

Angela glanced at the display of opaque pink dildos standing ramrod straight next to the vibrators and cockrings. “Yes.”

Moira didn’t smile, just stood up and stretched out her hand. Dazedly, Angela shook her hand and took her business card. 

On her way out the door, the green-haired man running the cash drawer nodded and wished her a nice rest of the day.

Angela considered a cup of coffee on the walk back to her apartment, but she calculated her expenses for this month and remembered her last bank statement in her head, changing her mind.

X

She didn’t hear back until over a week later, when she’d already given up and had set up an interview for an Italian restaurant.

Moira asked if she could come in tomorrow and fill out the paperwork. 

“Can I fill it out today?”

Moira sounded pleased by that. “Your first day will still be tomorrow. A Saturday is too busy for the first day.”

“I’m only a few blocks… I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She called the Italian restaurant soon after she hung up and politely canceled her interview. Then she threw on a pair of jeans and flats and walked to her new job.

X

Moira was there to hand her the paperwork but said she couldn't stay long.

“ You can give it to Shimada when you're done. We’ll need a copy of photo ID too.”

Angela was too embarrassed to admit she had left her ID at home, relieved that Moira was about to leave. She rushed home and back after filling out the paperwork. When she returned, Shimada was busy helping customers next to the anal hook display. He regarded her with a surprised look and mouthed that he would be a moment.

Patiently, Angela waited on one of the plush leather chairs, fiddling with the ID in her hands as customers came and went. She watched them curiously, knowing that tomorrow she would be helping them shop. She wondered how many regulars came in, and if they were pleasant. She hoped so.

Her last job had been waitressing, which involved late hours, physical labor, and the occasional surly customer. After midnight, when the restaurant finally closed, she would devote her time to studying and doing her homework. If she was lucky, she would go to sleep at four. Occasionally she had pulled all nighters and went to school in the morning, then work, and home again to study. Rinse and repeat.

She was a little relieved when her hours started to get cut, then alarmed when she started to see herself on the schedule twice a week with only half shifts.

Admittedly, she wasn’t the best waitress, though she tried. But trying wasn’t enough for the restaurant and eventually she was forced to quit.

Angela calculated the negotiated wage in her head and ticked off dates in her mental calendar. If payroll was next week it would be a godsend: her rent was due at the beginning of the month.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

Angela stood up, shaking her head. “Not at all. Ms. O’Deorain called you Shimada but I have a feeling that’s your last name.”

He laughed, outstretching his hand for her to shake. “Please, call me Genji.”

“Angela.” 

After the greetings, she handed him the finished paperwork and her ID card. Concerned that he had kept her waiting, Genji asked her to follow him to the back as he copied her card.

“Is this your first job?” 

Angela shook her head and recalled her restaurant job, and the one before that-- a chocolate shop in her home country. 

“I’m an immigrant too.” 

“Actually, I'm just a foreign exchange student. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll stay in the states.”

“My brother and I came to this country when we were little. Hanzo-- that’s my older brother-- remembers the transition but it feels like I’ve always lived here.” Genji returned her ID and placed the copy along with the paperwork on Moira’s desk. Angela noted a rabbit figurine that was used as a paperweight before Genji guided her out of the back office.

“Do you mind if I stick around and shadow you?” she asked.

Genji smiled. His teeth were endearingly crooked. “Sure.”

For the next hour, Angela stood beside Genji as he worked with the customers that filtered through the shop. He was quick but courteous, and could hold a vibrator jumping in his hands like a fish out of water while wearing a straight face, at least until the customers left.

“How do you do it?” Angela asked when they were alone for five minutes, a rare break. 

Genji grinned, shrugging. “You get used to it.”

Angela imagined herself in his place and turned red. Would she get used to it? The things the customers asked for that Saturday were not in themselves bizarre, but to hear people talk about what they were doing in the bedroom so brazenly was something she wasn’t used to. But her teacher had told her once that as a doctor, she would hear about everything and anything.

“What are you still doing here?” Moira asked. The bell hanging next to the door chimed behind her.

“Um… shadowing, Gen--”

“Your first day is tomorrow. We discussed this,” Moira replied curtly, she hadn’t even allowed Angela to finish her sentence.

Angela gulped. “Sorry.” She picked up her things and quickly shuffled out the door. On her way out she heard Moira chastising Genji and felt responsible.

So the next afternoon, after her classes, when her actual first day started, she was wary of entering the store to be met with Moira’s narrowed gaze.

But her manager wasn’t there, nor was Genji. Instead, a man in chaps over his jeans greeted her with a tip of his cowboy hat. “What can I do for you, darlin’?”

Angela sniffed peevishly at the unwarranted term of endearment. 

“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean it like that.” 

Angela hoped so, but if Moira was stern with her employees working off the clock, probably she was also strict about sexual harassment. And, as a woman, Moira would understand. 

“My name is Angela,” she said, recollecting her composure to offer a hand to shake. “I’m the new hire.”

“Name’s McCree.”

“Does Ms. O’Deorain always refer to her employees by their last names?”

“Yeah, but I like my last name. Fits me better.” He motioned her closer. “I’ll show you how to work the register. You ever handle money at a job before?”

“I waitressed, but never used a cash drawer.”

It was simple enough, and within twenty minutes Angela was ready for their first customer, except there was no one in the shop save for her and McCree.

“It’s like this on Sundays,” he explained and asked her to follow him to the product displays. “When it’s quiet, we arrange the displays.”He gave that task to Angela while he thumbed through a magazine.

Angela rolled her eyes, watching the man prop his feet on the counter, grinning ear to ear as he ogled models in swimwear with the occasional whistle and chuckle to puncture the silence.

“Will Ms. O’Deorain be coming in today?” Angela asked, organizing the lubricants by label color.

McCree’s eyes were glued to the magazine. “She doesn’t usually come in on Sundays.”

“I can tell,” Angela muttered.

Their first customers didn’t come in until one, an anxious couple who jumped when Angela greeted them and ignored her when she asked if they were looking for anything special. She was a little miffed when she saw them freely converse with McCree as he rung up their purchases.

For the remaining two hours, she cleaned, and then, with a forced goodbye, left McCree with his dirty magazines. 

The next day, Angela was relieved to see Genji unpacking a box full of new product and to hear that Moira was in her office. 

“What can I do to help?” Angela kneeled in front of the open box.

Genji smiled, handing her a stack of books. Angela read the spines as she shelved the books, coloring at the titles and keeping the ones that piqued her interest in the back of her mind for later. One caught her eye in particular: The New Bottoming Book.

“See anything you like?” Moira asked from behind her.

Angela jolted, unsure how to respond. In the end, she did what usually worked for her in most situations and smiled innocently. 

“You can read the books if it’s slow. You’ll need to know about the product.”

“And anything I don’t know, you can show me, right?” Angela blurted, and in that instant wanted to catch fire-- she felt like that was happening already, her face was beet red, realizing how flirtatious that had sounded.

“If there is, let me know,” Moira said, keeping a straight face as if she hadn’t caught the possible connotations.

But she had to have, owning a store like this. Likely, she had heard all sorts of dirty jokes and double entendres. Maybe she was so used to it that it no longer affected her. 

She asked Genji about it days later, after they had worked long enough together that she felt comfortable to share. “Do you think she noticed how it sounded?”

Genji was too busy laughing to answer, and when Angela made a face, he only laughed harder. If Moira was too serious, Genji was the opposite. He always found a way to make light of things and his sense of humor ranged from dangerously straightforward and subtle to overzealously hilarious. 

“I’m serious!” Angela groaned, stretching over the counter. “It keeps replaying in my head when I see her, or when I’m trying to sleep!”

“I’m sorry-- I’m just-- picturing your face.” He wiped the corners of his eyes and quickly scanned the outside for any potential customers walking in. “And yes, I’m sure she noticed.”

Angela pressed her cheek to the cool counter. “I just started and I’m already embarrassing myself.”

Genji gently patted her on the back. “She’s probably forgotten about it by now. When we close I’ll buy you dinner, will that help? I know a ramen shop that stays open late.”

Angela wasn’t sure if the ramen would help, but as a college student she had learned the value of a free meal. The remaining hour that the shop was open a small trickle of customers came through and Angela assisted them while Genji cleaned, keeping close watch in case she needed any help. 

“You’re more helpful than...” Angela paused and her face twisted trying to remember the name of the man she had worked with on her first day.

“McCree?” Genji offered helpfully.

Angela nodded and tucked the name away in her thoughts so she wouldn’t forget again. Before she said another word, Genji continued, “He’s more useful that he looks.”

He locked the door behind them and walked past his green moped caked in stickers. They trekked leisurely through the cool spring air and talked about a K-Drama they were both invested in about ninjas in love, which Genji had recommended to her.

On the front door of the restaurant was an onion-shaped mascot bathing in a bowl of noodles. Genji opened the door for Angela and she quickly slipped inside, thanking him, and she thanked him again after she slurped her last noodle, patting her belly.

She forgot about the embarrassing incident for weeks, until her second paycheck, when she had just enough money to treat herself. The book that had caught her eye on her second day working at the shop was still on the shelf. It had been moved a few times by curious hands, and each time Angela had seen a customer at the bookshelf, she had sucked in a breath, hoping no one would buy it.

One of the pages was dog-eared, but it was still in good condition. Angela waited until Sunday during her lunch to buy it, when Moira wasn’t around. McCree didn’t pay attention to the cover as he rung it up for her. To him, the purchase was just a minor obstacle to the pile of naughty magazines he planned to read through that day. 

Angela didn’t dare to read her new book through the rest of her lunch and impatiently waited until five to run out the door to her apartment. She skipped dinner and a shower and barely made it out of her sneakers, diving under the safety of the covers.

She read the book, front to back, ignoring the red glow of her alarm clock. The book wasn’t what she expected, and long after she had finished reading it she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her mind flooded with possibilities.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and encouragement. There were times when I almost gave up on this AU but I'm currently writing chapter 5 now and while editing this chapter I wondered why I was so hard on myself.
> 
> Also, kinks will be prefaced in the author notes when we get to that part. And I do plan to go all out, per usual.

Fareeha used to call her a pillow princess back when they were dating. Angela had taken pride in that title and Fareeha only encouraged her. Never had she expected anything in return.

So when they broke up, Angela knew that wasn’t the reason why, and that Fareeha wasn’t lying when she said it was because she felt lonely. 

Angela’s studies and her part time job had taken up more time than Fareeha wanted, but she respected her goals. The breakup had been amicable, but not enough that they could still live together. They had tried, but it was awkward sharing a bed with only a border of pillows between them and a few times they had slipped up and had sex. 

Fareeha moved back in with her mother two weeks after the breakup and for a while Angela was able to cover the full rent. 

When she had found ‘The New Bottoming Book,’ she assumed it was an in depth guide to being a pillow princess, but when she finally read the book she gleaned more than she had bargained for.

She had an hour of sleep under her belt, but she was wide awake, her imagination wild with scenarios she had never known she wanted to be in. She thought about leather restraints holding her arms behind her back and a spreader bar that forced her legs open for entry. She thought about being trussed up with rope and a ball gag lodged in her mouth. She thought about being on her knees for someone and calling that person ‘master’.

She thought about these things instead of the notes her human anatomy teacher was discussing, but because she was an outstanding student, she was never called on and could stare at the projector screen, blissfully silent as lurid images filled her thoughts.

She squeezed her thighs together. 

She masturbated in the few minutes she had between class and work. Her orgasm was quick but she had no time to wash and so she walked to work damp and sticky where her wetness had spread.

Angela entered the store to see Moira at the counter, perusing a vendor catalog. She wondered self-consciously if Moira could smell her, or if she had noticed a particular book had sold.

“Good morning, Ziegler,” Moira greeted flatly, licking her thumb and turning a page.

“Good morning!” Angela might have said too loudly, but Moira always said she and Genji were too enthusiastic, insinuating that she preferred quiet people. However, quiet and demure would not move product; she had also said this to point out how vital she and Genji were. Moira was good at handling business, but not people.

Angela walked past to stow her purse in her locker when Moira sniffed sharply.

Angela stopped and cautiously glanced over her shoulder, tightening her hold on her purse strap. She pressed her thighs together as if that would snuff out the smell of her arousal.

Then Moira sneezed and ducked under the counter to find a tissue. “Your perfume is strong today,” she groused, blowing her nose.

“Sorry,” Angela said quickly, dashing away. Since she couldn’t shower earlier, she had sprayed herself with sunflower-scented body spray, and had even planned to spray it again until Moira mentioned it.

For the first few hours of her shift, thanks to Moira’s comment, she was hyper aware that she smelled like an old lady who had jumped into a vat of floral perfume. McCree, who had no tact mistook the smell for something else, waving his hand in front of his face. “You been drinkin’?”

“It’s perfume.” An edge of annoyance crept out of her voice and she walked away to find something to do.

She found herself in front of the bookshelf again and picked up the first two books that caught her eye: one with a woman wearing a sleek, shiny latex bodysuit and another with a close-up of two hands wrapped in steel cuffs. 

Angela looked over her shoulder and saw that Moira was absent. She had mentioned that she would be in her office to do ordering. Of course, Angela knew Moira meant ordering stock, but she had mishead and imagined Moira ordering a hapless being that was chained to her desk. Steadily, Angela imagined herself as the one that held that honor, and she could smell herself again, stronger than a field of sunflowers.

X

Angela waited until Sunday to read the two books she’d found on the shelf last Tuesday. She would have bought them, but couldn’t afford to--or to wait either. 

As she hoped, McCree paid no mind to her chosen reading material, his entire focus on muscular men holding eggplants in front of their genitals.

They spent an hour like that until the bell hung over the door chimed. Angela looked up, expecting a customer, and turned white to discover Moira walking in on a day she normally took off, wearing purple slacks and a canary yellow button-down with gold buttons. 

She nodded curtly to both Angela and McCree as she passed the counter to the back office. 

Angela memorized the page number she was on and set the book aside. Then she dashed to the other end of the store, rearranging the cockrings that were out of order due to an indecisive customer the night before. 

She kept her back vigilantly turned, even when she heard the clipped tap of Moira’s steps. McCree said something and Moira made a noise something like a deflated laugh or a voiced shrug. She left soon-- but not soon enough-- after. 

Angela waited a beat, and then ten more before she returned to the counter and her book. She thought that McCree had glanced at her, his smile cheeky, but when she darted her eyes towards him, he was focused on a pinup spread of a man doing archery in the buff. 

X

She was halfway through the book by next pay period, but had changed her mind by that time. Her sights were set on a pair of leather handcuffs lined with sheepskin, among various other closely related implements. It was strange how she had never given the kinky section a second glance until now. It had all seemed foolish and bizzare and unhealthy before. Now it was everything she thought about whenever she wasn’t slicing a cadaver open or studying for a test.

The idea of a BDSM relationship had become an escape, a fantasy that was at arm's reach but still deemed impossible. She had read books, and there was a rack of canes and whips on display, but Angela had yet to see anyone buy one from off the shelves. 

Then, one evening before they closed, Genji asked Angela to wait before she closed the cash drawer, and he pulled an item off the shelf. 

Angela turned the box around in her hands to inspect the contents, pretending to find the barcode. 

“It’s right here,” Genji pointed out.

Angela scanned it quickly, seeing her coworker in a new light. Her attempts to count the money in the drawer were slow and often interrupted by her own curiosity. She watched Genji as he opened the box and pulled out a hooded leather dog mask.

“How do I look?” He asked. There was a zipper at the mouth and he tested it by pulling it closed.

“You like those sort of things?” Angela cautiously asked, counting the twenties for the third time.

He unzipped the mask so he could speak. “Don’t you?”

Angela cleared her throat and counted the tens briskly. She tugged so hard she ripped one in half diagonally. 

“Scheisse.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He handed her the tape dispenser and then, his voice conspiratorial, said,: “McCree mentioned a book you bought a few weeks ago...“

“I mistook what it was about!” she blurted out and cursed McCree’s name under her breath. Even in German, Genji caught the gist of it and smiled.

“And I’ve noticed your gaze has been drawn to a particular part of the store...”

“It’s necessary to familiarize myself with all of our merchandise.”

“And I’ve noticed the way you look at M--” He stopped under the threat of her gaze, or maybe it was because she had one leg hiked up the counter, ready to pounce on him. He held his hands up in surrender and slowly Angela relaxed. 

She counted the drawer in silence as Genji took selfies of himself wearing the dog mask. 

“Is it really that obvious?” she asked, turning off the lights. Genji reached into his jeans for his keys to lock the door behind them, quiet as he digested her question. He had nearly forgotten about his teasing, it seemed.

“I don’t think so,” he finally said.

“Are you sure?” 

They stopped in front of his moped. His helmet was a collage of stickers with brand names and characters from various anime, worn and scuffed, just like his moped. 

“If she knows, she’ll leave it be. Moira’s just that kind of person.”

Angela found that hard to believe. To her, Moira seemed like the type who, if she found the slightest thing to humiliate someone with, would tease them incessantly. She told Genji this and he just shook his head, smiling cryptically. “Perhaps in her free time she is that sort of person.”

He offered her a ride, but since he didn’t have an extra helmet, Angela politely declined and walked her usual way home. The air was chill. During the fickle spring she often forgot to bring a jacket with her for later that evening.

She took a shower to warm up and studied late, but went to bed early enough that she got a decent night’s rest. She dreamed about surprising her boss with a gift: leather handcuffs lined with sheepskin and a white bodysuit that hugged her figure. Flustered, Angela ran away and tripped over Genji who was crouched on all fours, barking and wagging his tail.

X

Eventually, Angela realized how advantageous it was that Genji was open about his sexuality. It allowed her to talk about things she wanted to without the pressure of bringing it up herself. It had started with him sharing the photos he had taken of himself in his new mask and her asking questions. She asked him how long he had been interested in BDSM. He said as long as he could remember, but the puppy play was recent. 

“And you?”

“Just a few weeks ago,” she said, feeling like a late bloomer. She wondered if this was what she wanted, since Genji and the people whose books she had read for research all said they had this interest since youth. But if Genji shared her doubts, he didn’t show it, only encouraging her questions and teaching her all he knew as a submissive. 

He advised her to be careful-- since she was new-- because certain dominants preyed on the inexperienced, whether that was because they would see Angela as a shiny new toy or because that dom had exhausted their resources and trust and depended on finding inexperienced partners (who knew nothing of their torrid history) to exploit. 

“It’s usually the former,” he said, but told her that if needed he would vet the person first. 

They mostly spoke about this at their favorite ramen restaurant when they weren’t pointing out cute passersby and dragging McCree for his penchant for chaps.

“I swear if Moira let him, he would wear them without jeans,” Genji said.

“Mein Gott, I hope she never does.”

“He’s been there longer than me, back when the shop was co-run with Gabe.”

Angela’s brows raised. “Gabe?” The name sounded familiar.

“He’s actually Moira’s boss, but after an incident he couldn’t run the business anymore, so he gave her the rest of his shares.”

“What happened?” 

Genji shrugged, “Moira won’t say, neither will McCree. Guy’s practically a ghost.”

Angela knitted her brows, staring into the remaining broth in her bowl for answers. “What was he like?” 

“Pretty intense.”

“Sounds like someone Moira would get along with.”

“You’re thinking about her again...”

“Shut up!” She gently shoved him, then quickly apologized when he actually fell out of his seat.

She helped him back to his feet, quickly scanning for any sign of serious injury, but her guilt had yet to subside. “I’m sorry Genji, I--”

“So how would you do it?” he said, changing the subject.

“Do what?”

He flexed his fingers and pointed at his nails. “I’m not a lesbian but even I know that--”

She instantly regretted helping him back into his chair but he slipped back into her good graces, asking if she wanted to go to a party this weekend. “Not an ordinary party,” he clarified at the slight frown.

“A sex party?” she hissed, suddenly conscious of the subject matter in a public space.

“Just a play party-- but sometimes that does happen at these parties, just not this one.”

“What would I wear?” Angela couldn’t think of a single item in her closet that would blend in with the leather and latex she imagined the other guests would be bedecked in. Even her underwear was boring: white cotton panties and a denim bra.

“What you’re wearing now is nice.” 

Angela glanced down, unable to believe that a pair of jeans and a white shirt with a recently added broth stain on the front would be acceptable anywhere, much less a party where participants were going to be flogged. 

“Just wear what makes you feel good.”

“What makes me feel good?” 

She echoed his words in the restaurant, and then an hour later in front of her closet. Inside hung her second pair of jeans, simple T-shirts (long-sleeved and short-sleeved), scarves, and her favorite bra.

“At least it’s black,” she said, picking out the bra. 

The only dressy item in her closet was a bright yellow, ruffled dress she had worn for a dinner party two years ago.

In the end, she set aside the black bra, a black shirt, and the jeans for Saturday night, hoping that she wouldn’t be turned away at the door for her plainness.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days before the party, Genji called in sick. He had warned Angela with a text before she came into work that afternoon, straight from her classes. She had yet to be trained to close the shop and she had never worked a shift on her own, meaning that either McCree or Moira would be at the store with her that evening. 

Angela wasn’t sure who she’d rather work with, and for the first time in weeks, she was hesitant to come into work, finding little things to do in the scant thirty minutes she had until then. She helped someone with their notes after class, and then she stopped at a cafe for a coffee, even though the store had a nice espresso machine in the back (because like her, Moira was a caffeine addict). 

“None for me, Ziegler?” Moira asked, eyeing the steaming cup of coffee in her hands.

Angela returned a muted smile. “Sorry.”

“I’m only half-joking,” Moira said and retreated to the back, presumably to visit the espresso machine.

Angela followed her only to quickly stow her purse in her locker. She was about to return to the storefront when Moira called for her.

“You’ve been with us awhile, haven’t you? How do you like it?”

“I like it very much.” Angela stiffly replied.

“Would you like me to teach you how to close the store? It seems Shimada may be out sick tomorrow too.”

Angela frowned, thinking about their plans for Saturday again, now under threat of cancellation. She didn’t realize that Moira was watching her, taking in her forlorn expression. 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Angela said. 

“You were thinking of something else.”

“How did you...?”

Moira pulled a spare key from her desk drawer and dropped it into Angela’s palm, her expression telling her not to misplace it. “I’ve noticed you’re quite close to Shimada.”

“We’re friends.”

Moira arched a brow that was perfectly painted on. “I do trust that when you and Shimada close together, you keep it professional.”

The comment had come sudden and sidelong. She could scarcely believe that Moira had said it. But, she confirmed it, giving Angela a stern, practical look that a mother might give to show they knew best. 

Angela couldn’t feel the heat from her coffee cup, her fingers numb. 

She carried the interaction within her, and as soon as she was temporarily released for her ten minute break, she texted Genji.

But he never answered back within the ten minute span, or in the hour and a half later when Moira had trained her to close shop. She was looking at her phone, beginning her trek home, when Moira stopped her again.

“Do you always walk home alone at night?”

“It’s not a bad neighborhood.”

Moira was poised next to her car, a sleek vintage vehicle with a modern purple finish. She opened the passenger’s side door, which seemed odd to Angela until she said, “get in.”

After Moira’s suspicious quip about her relationship with Genji, Angela was adamant about listening to her. But, the tone in which she said it sneaked under Angela’s skin and gave her goosebumps. Moira was unyielding, standing there waiting for her, holding the door open.

The car smelled like leather and clove cigars, but there were no other signs that Moira smoked in her car. Angela had never considered she might be a smoker, but the thought of smoke curling out between thin red lips almost made her forget Moira’s earlier trespass. She sank into the passenger’s seat and enjoyed the brief ride.

X

The smell of leather and cloves was still embedded in her clothes the next morning. She had fallen asleep wearing the shirt from the night before, with just enough energy to slip out of her bra and jeans. Angela pulled the fabric of her shirt over her nose and inhaled. Under the haze of Moira’s scent was her own, slightly musky and not as appealing.

She threw off the shirt and took a cold shower to wake up, then she rushed out the door without breakfast, her hair still damp.

Genji still hadn’t responded to her text, meaning he was still sick as a dog, meaning she would be working with Moira again. Unlike yesterday, she was looking forward to it, even though Moira had given her well meaning but invasive advice. 

Did she and Genji seem like a couple? She had thought they were just doing the things friends or co-workers normally did.

But there was the BDSM party that Saturday that Genji had invited her to. Angela was still new to the lifestyle. Did friends typically go to such events together?

Perhaps Moira had picked up on something Angela hadn’t.

At two, during her classes, Genji finally responded:

 **Genji 2:32PM**  
Still sick but I’m feeling better. I think I’ll be in tomorrow.

 

Angela stared at her phone, waiting for another message, something related to what she had sent him last night about what Moira had said about them.

But that was it. She told herself not to be hard on him due to his illness, but she couldn’t help but insecurely think that maybe Moira was right. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had misinterpreted her friendliness.

X

“I have to run an errand,” Moira said, an hour into her shift. She gathered her keys and clutch, promising she would return in forty minutes.

A few customers came in shortly after Moira left: a middle-aged woman who was shopping for a penis-shaped cake pan (which they didn’t have), a woman shopping for a gift for her girlfriend, and a young man who flinched at his own shadow but had mustered up enough bravery to buy a porn parody of a popular cartoon show.

She took advantage of the quiet that followed, reading a book of erotica that she wouldn’t have dared read with company present. She was just at the part where the russet-haired slave fell to her knees, kissing her Mistress’s steel-toed boots, when her phone vibrated.

Hopeful that it was Genji, she checked her messages.

 **Moira 6:37PM**  
How is the store?

 **Angela 6:38PM**  
No complications.

 **Moira 6:38PM**  
I will be back soon. I’m buying dinner on the way. Would you like something?

Angela’s stomach growled, as if replying to Moira’s text. 

**Angela 6:40PM**  
If you don’t mind. I’ll pay you back.

Moira arrived a half hour later with a plastic takeout bag. She dismissed Angela to a short thirty minute break to eat the salad she had bought her.

“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“But--”

“Nothing.” 

When Angela tried again, Moira said that her break was now short five minutes. 

There were few places to sit in the back. The only proper seat was the leather seat at Moira’s desk. Angela sat on an egg crate, salad on her lap, and stared at Moira’s desk, organized as ever. There were two separate stacks of paper. One of them held in place by the same bunny rabbit paperweight Angela had seen the day she was hired.

Restless after finishing her dinner, Angela approached the desk for a closer look, making the careful decision not to touch anything. 

The rabbit figurine was standing on its hind legs. The front paws hung daintily in front of its chest and its eyes peered upwards, doe-like, as if pleading. The painted flush on the rabbit’s cheeks was dull and one of the ears was chipped. 

The rabbit was soft and vulnerable, so unlike Moira with all her edges, that Angela wondered if it was an heirloom, a gift, or simply something convenient as a paperweight. Angela suspected it was the last option, but the longer she gazed at the porcelain figurine, she decided that wasn’t the case. Moira was a practical woman, but she wouldn’t just keep an item around for long just for convenience's sake unless it meant something to her.

The sound of Moira’s voice greeting a customer reminded her that she was only a few steps away from being discovered. She threw away her empty salad container, and with five minutes left of her break, returned to the front desk. Moira was absent, helping the customer she had greeted moments ago. Angela heard movement from the canes section and without thinking reached for the book she was reading an hour ago, about the earnest slave with russet hair and stars in her eyes and the Mistress she so adored.

And then Angela stopped with the miserable realization that she had not only left the book in plain sight, but had bookmarked it. On closer inspection, she saw her bookmarker had been moved. That in itself had not been a mistake, and the purpose behind it rattled her. If Moira didn’t want Angela to know she had been snooping, she would have carefully replaced the bookmark. Moira was not sloppy, except if she chose to be, which was rare. In the weeks Angela had watched her, she noted that Moira's every movement and gesture made had a conscious decision behind it. She would not waste even a breath.

In the back of her mind, she recalled Moira’s voice behind her: 

_See anything you like?_

X

“I don’t see the problem since we’re not doing anything to confirm her suspicions,” Genji said, finally responding to Angela’s text.

He had come in with a stuffy nose, box of tissues and hand sanitizer. Angela promised to treat him to a bowl of ramen later tonight to help clear his sinuses.

“It wasn’t her business to say anything,” Angela said, but she could tell Genji wanted to change the subject, looking away.

“This might surprise you but I think she likes you.”

Angela frowned skeptically, considering the meal Moira had bought her last night. “I doubt it.”

“And lesbians wonder why they have girl trouble-- or a lack of it.”

Without her bringing it up, he reassured her that he still planned to take her to the play party tomorrow. She doubted this, eyeing the tissues and the cold medicine stowed under the counter.

In the end she wasn't able to treat him to a hot bowl of ramen. He said all he wanted to do was sleep. 

X

“Twelve hours and i slept through my alarm clock,” he told her later the next day, proud to have finally defeated the cold. He was still a little sniffly, but the return of his jubilant spirit dampened her previous concerns.

“Did you decide on something to wear tonight?”

Angelas grip tightened on the shopping bag in her hands. “Yeah”. She had tried to find a few things at the thrift shop on the way to work but had managed to find only one item, carefully bundled up inside a cozy black shirt and a skirt she thought she had lost. The item carefully wrapped within however was not meant to be worn.

They closed the store as soon as they could and were admittedly lax on the cleaning job. Angela promised she would take care of it Sunday.

“Assuming you’ll be up for it,” Genji teased. His back was turned as she was getting dressed. Deftly, she retrieved the object that was wrapped in the clothes she had packed and placed it on Moira’s desk. Satisfied, she changed into the pencil skirt and black shirt that bared her shoulders (and consequently, her bra straps).

“You can turn around now,” she said.

He passed her a helmet, a recent purchase: no scuffing in sight and it had yet to be covered in stickers. 

On the ride to the party, on Genji’s moped, with her arms wrapped around him, she thought about the small thank-you gift she had left on Moira’s desk: a porcelain rabbit at rest, its paws just barely peeking out from under its fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter. Things will be spicy next update.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a couple things for clarity.
> 
> There is slight Widow/Mercy in this chapter but it's more of friends playing around with each other, which is common in my local BDSM community. Angela is very close friends with Genji also but they will not play at any point in this fic. 
> 
> The main pairing is and always will be Moira/Mercy although a few other pairings may pop up and Angela might flirt, kiss, or play with others. As I did with this chapter I will give a head's up in the notes for what to expect as far as character interactions &c.
> 
> This chapter also contains flogging and caning and mention of aftercare.

They parked outside a brick building that was usually rented out for potlucks and charity organizations. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Angela eyed the people filtering into the building. They seemed older and dressed conservatively. “Did you take me to a bingo tournament?”

Genji laughed as he took off his helmet. “You’ll see.”

Inside, there were three people seated behind a table -- behind them a dark velvet curtain. She could hear murmured conversations and peals of laughter. For the most part, it sounded like any other party Angela had gone to.

“Sign this.” Genji passed her a sheet of paper from the pile on the desk.

Carefully, she read over it. It was a consent form verifying her age and the knowledge that she knew what she was getting into. She returned it with her signature, and following Genji’s example, extended her arm to be braceleted with a thin strip of paper.

“Have fun.” One of the ladies at the table beamed, and another drew back the curtain. 

The room was crowded with people in various states of dress and undress, though Angela noted that many of the women kept their nipples covered with electrical tape, and everyone kept their underwear on. Most astonishing were the variety of body types and the fact that, including herself and Genji, there were only about ten others in their age range there. The majority of the guests were in their thirties or older.

A young gentleman close to her age bemoaned this, “Why are there always old people at these?!”

They found a table to sit, a safe space to claim amid all the activity around them. Angela heard a whip crack. Glancing over, she saw a brunette with her hands tied over her head to a ceiling beam while her feet were still flat on the ground. Angela’s eyes eyes rested there, admiring the woman as she bore the force of the flogger, which was as big as a car wash brush. She barely made a sound and Angela held her breath, inexplicably drawn in.

It was Genji who broke the spell. Gently he tapped her on the hand. “You okay?”

“Ye-AH!” She jumped as she turned around, met with the dog mask he had put on while she had looked away.

“Should I take it off?”

“No, you--” Angela drew in a breath. “You just surprised me.” She laughed, breaking her tension.

“It can be a lot to take in.” Genji gestured to the crowd and the scenes playing out around them.

“No. I like it,” she said, almost dreamily. It was nothing like the book of erotica she had been reading at the store, only better, more real, obtainable-- almost.

“Are you ready to walk around?”

“Yes!” She hopped out of her seat, the previous worries about her clothes and inexperience gone in place of her enthusiasm.

They walked closer to the scene that had caught Angela’s eye. The brunette’s hair was short and mussed and under the splay of freckles on her cheeks there was a rising blush. However, it was her ass that was redder. Just as Angela was inspecting the marks, the brunette received another well-timed wallop from the flogger. The force of it pushed her forward enough that the air stirred Angela’s hair.

“Oh...” The brunette’s eyes were glazed with pure euphoria. “Oh, Em, that feels nice...”

The redhead laid the flogger to rest and stopped to run her fingers through short brown hair. “Good. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” She dotted her girlfriend’s sweaty brow with a kiss and then traced her tongue over her lips. The brunette pitched forward, chasing for a kiss, and the redhead laughed, dancing back.

The moment was more intimate than the flogging had been, so much that Angela found herself turning away. 

Catching her awkwardness re-emerging, Genji took her hand and guided her to a corner of the room to recover. Then they continued their exploration, admiring the toys in the vendor area and talking with the occasional passerby that knew Genji. Most of them were gay men, Angela noticed. He introduced her to them all and they made small talk.

Then her hand found the hand of a woman that Genji introduced as ‘Mistress Amélie.’ Her heart stopped, gazing up at the taller woman who wore a stoic, painted-on smile. 

“Angela, was it?” With her French accent, the question itself sounded delicate and precise, like a spider's walk. She looked, she sounded, delightfully dangerous.

Angela’s voice caught in her throat and from the corner of her eye she saw Genji smirking like a smart ass at her. “...Yes.”

Self-consciously she let go of Amélie’s hand but the other woman made no move to pull her hand away. She allowed her palm to linger.

“Would you like to see the toys I’ve brought with me tonight?”

Angela nodded. Genji followed them.

Amélie stopped at her table and opened a rifle case, which contained one flogger with purple tails and three canes. She invited Angela to touch them, something that she didn’t need to be told twice. 

They sold canes at the shop and she had touched them before to rearrange stock or make displays, but Amélie’s canes felt different, or Angela finally saw them in a different light. She took in the beauty of their craftsmanship, the warmth that would radiate from their use. She easily saw herself on the receiving end and something must have given that away, for Amélie asked her if she would like to ‘try.’

“I’ve never done this before,” Angela said unsteadily. She felt undeserving because of her inexperience.

“I know.” 

Her bluntness startled Angela.

“I don’t mind that as long as you communicate with me. But we’ve only just met. I won’t push it if you’re uncomfortable,chérie.”

Angela quickly shook her head, afraid that Amélie would change her mind if she didn’t speak up soon. “No no no! I want to! I just--”

“Haven’t? But you want to?”

“Yes.” She lowered her eyes, feeling dirty for admitting it.

“I’ll be there,” Genji added, “if you would like my company.”

Angela agreed. A friend nearby would help her nerves, and she trusted that if anything were to go awry, Genji would be at her side.

They discussed limits and aftercare at the table, and then Amélie took up her rifle case and guided them to an open spot at the center of the play area, near the brunette and redhead Angela had been watching intently before. Now the brunette was untied and wrapped in a blanket. She and the redhead were on the floor, snuggling. Angela thought she had imagined the slow smile on Amélie’s face, when she noticed she was watching them also.

Then her attention was brought back to the task at hand and she unpacked her toys and stretched her long arms. “Undress as much or little as you like. Or not at all.” 

She decided that if the pain was too much, her skirt could buffer the blows, and kept it on.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” Amélie said.

Angela laid herself horizontal on the chaise lounge chair they'd selected and closed her eyes, drawing a breath. 

“I’m ready.”

Amélie ran a hand through blonde hair and loosed her ponytail. “Are you really ready, chérie? For what I have planned for you?” A laugh.

Angela crossed her legs, conscious of the sudden shiver that bolted down her spine all the way to the crux between her legs. Amélie had barely touched her and had spoken those words so devious and deliberately. She was putty in her hands.

And the worst-- no-- best part was that Amélie knew. 

“So that’s all it takes. How cute.” Her fingers danced down Angela's vertebrae and skirted her ass. Then, nothing.

Angela held her breath.

Amélie’s hand did not descend swiftly and hard; rather, her hands landed feather light on Angela’s ass. She squeezed, massaged, and gently pinched her there, and Angela wondered if she would make good on her promise to spank her. She prodded her. “Harder, bitte.”

“Oh? Are you the one giving orders? My mistake, petite fille.”

Amélie’s hands left her and Angela found herself, of all things, whining just like a small girl. “Please! I’m sorry! Please!”

“Please stop. Your tears, they disgust me.” Angela’s eyes were still closed but she could imagine Amélie waving her hand at her dismissively, waiting out the small tantrum. If that was what she was doing, it worked, and Angela recollected herself to wait patiently.

“Et voilà,” Amélie chirped, and for her humility, Angela was rewarded with a stroke across the ass.

The pain was sharp, bleeding out into pleasure. Angela’s eyes snapped wide open. She felt Amélie watching her, gauging her reaction, waiting to make the next strike.

She changed canes, angles, and rhythm, refusing to allow Angela to become overtly familiar with the sensations. Whenever Angela acclimated to a rhythm, she changed it, or took it away all together to drag her fingers along her scalp and take a fistful of hair.

Angela could smell herself, her panties soaked through. She didn’t want Amélie to stop and she didn't want to leave the party, but she began to look forward to going home. No vibrator needed this time, she thought.

After her scene with Amélie, Genji gathered her to the wall close by. Amélie was gone for the moment to get a glass of water.

Angela shivered, envious of the brunette for her blanket. The couple had left long ago while she and Amélie were playing. She wondered about them. But there were more pressing things.

“I’m cold,” she whined, pulling closer to Genji. 

“I didn’t think to tell you to bring a blanket,” he said apologetically. He gave her his jacket and held her. “I didn’t expect you to do a scene on your first night.”

Angela closed her eyes, stealing whatever warmth she could out of her friend, and then, Amélie returned, pressing a cold glass of water against her neck.

“Bitch!” she hissed and burrowed her forehead harder against Genji’s chest.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Amélie smirked and slowly passed the glass to her.

“Thank you,” Angela said, and drank.

“Oi! Who's your new victim, Amélie?” A cheery voice spoke above the din. 

Amélie stepped aside and the brunette from before stepped forward, crouching down to Angela’s eye level. “Hello!” 

“Angela, this is--”

“--Her girlfriend! Nice to meet ya. I’m Lena. So your name is Angela?”

The redhead from before was also with them. She set a gentle hand on Lena. “Give her space, dear.”

“Oof. Sorry!” Lena sprang up, hands raised. “Just got a little excited, ya know?” 

The redhead waved. “I’m Emily. Your scene with Amélie was quite lovely.”

Angela turned red. “You were watching?” 

“It was hard not to. Amélie has a way with stringing people along-- in the best of ways, of course.”

“T-thank you.” Angela held the cool glass to her apple red cheeks. Boldy, she said, “I liked watching you two play too.”

Emily smiled and Angela caught a glimpse of Lena brushing her fingers along Amélie’s waist.

“Are you?”

“Lena’s a little on the greedy side and has us both,” Emily answered cheekily. From behind, Lena weakly protested, but relented with a kiss on the cheek from Emily. 

“So that really happens,” Angela said, dumbfounded. As she shifted, Genji’s grip on her loosened.

“I had two boyfriends,” he said. “Until my brother...” He stopped himself.

“Did what?” Angela asked, but Genji took her empty glass and excused himself.

She didn’t press the subject, even after the party on the drive back home. But she hoped one day he would be comfortable enough to tell her, when he was ready.


	5. Chapter 5

Angela slept through her alarm the following morning and fell out of bed when she finally woke up to discover she had ten minutes to make it to work on time.

She threw on her clothes, skipped breakfast, and didn’t brush her teeth. She flew past bikers and joggers to reach the shop.

She had barely made it and rattled the still-locked door until McCree let her inside. 

“You all right? You don’t look too good, darlin-- Angela.”

“I’m all right,” she rasped, catching her breath. She thanked the stars that only McCree was seeing her like this, with her hair wild and uncombed and (she realized later) her shirt on backwards.

McCree might have assumed she was hungover by how she dragged her feet, but the sun didn’t blind her with the merest sliver. Angela tried to make words of what she was feeling. It was similar to a hangover, but also like the first few weeks after she had broken up with Fareeha. She wasn’t sad, but she was thoroughly drained. Her thoughts harkened back to Genji’s comment yesterday night before the party when she had said she would clean the store on Sunday, and how he had laughed, saying “Sure,” sardonically. 

**Angela 11:20 AM**  
Why do I feel like shit?

 **Genji 12:01 PM**  
You’re experiencing drop, Angie. 

Most times, she wouldn’t text during work, but it was Sunday when Moira never planned to come in and McCree was preoccupied with the newest issue of ‘Guys and Guns: Now with more guns.’

She asked Genji to explain drop, then asked him why he hadn’t warned her.

 **Genji 12:05PM**  
I forgot. : < Please don’t yell at me. ಥ_ಥ

 **Angela 12:05 PM**  
I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. 

**Angela: 12:05PM**  
And I didn’t have time to eat breakfast.

He advised her to drink plenty of water and to eat as soon as she could, suggesting a candy bar to snack on. 

**Genji 12:07PM**  
Everyone is different but these things tend to work for me. U・ᴥ・U

Shortly after that, McCree asked her if she wanted to take an early lunch. She sensed the kindness in his offer and felt bad for all the times she had side-eyed him and made fun of his cowboy boots and chaps.

She bought a sandwich from the convenience store around the corner, and taking Genji’s advice, bought a chocolate bar, even though it wasn’t Swiss chocolate. She ate outside on a bench, soaking in the nice spring day, and after lunch, felt a little better. At least, she felt up to making good on her promise to clean the store.

On the walk back she ran her fingers through her hair in place of brushing it and decided this was as presentable as she would be for the day. She accepted that until she walked back inside to see Moira’s back facing her.

Even from behind, Angela could see Moira was in her Sunday best as usual. She was wearing braces to hold up her black pinstriped pants, and her blazer was slung over her shoulder. Angela gulped, taking in the image, self-conscious of how she looked in comparison to her boss dressed to the nines.

Moira turned, her mismatched eyes focusing on her. Angela wanted to perish where she stood, wondering why Moira always saw her at her worst. Why couldn’t she have seen her last night when Amélie had her laid across the chaise, dressed in a nice skirt with her inhibitions gone? Why did she have to see her now when she felt like death warmed over and was wearing the last clean clothes she had until she did laundry?

A sort of knowing smile spread Moira’s lips. She set her blazer on the counter and rested a hand on her hip. “Well if that isn’t a sight. Looks like you had fun last night.”

In that instant, Angela changed her mind about perishing. She wanted to smack that grin off Moira’s face.

“Leave her be, Moira,” McCree said. “Don’t you remember when you were in her shoes?”

Moira laughed, cruel and clear. “Never.” She gathered her blazer and the files she came for, and left.

Angela sighed and combed a persistently loose strand of hair back behind her ear. She charged to the back to stow her purse and thought about taking back the rabbit figurine she had left Moira.

But when she reached Moira’s desk and saw the figurine had been moved to sit on a stack of papers, she couldn’t bring herself to.

X

Angela found that she didn’t have to work as many hours at the shop to make rent as she had when she was a waitress. Not only that, it was less exhausting than the waitressing job had been. She found more time to finish her homework, and more time than she knew what to do with.

She considered calling Fareeha now that she had the time to spend with her. Spring Break was drawing nearer as well. Her loneliness would only lengthen with it.

But she had heard rumors that Fareeha had a new girlfriend. That had surprised her when it really shouldn’t. Five months had passed since they had separated and she had heard of others dating sooner than that. Of course, Fareeha wasn’t the only one who was interested in dating again either. Her own eyes had wandered to her boss, and just weeks ago she had met a dominatrix who canned her that same night.

All things considered, it was fair.

So as friends then, Angela thought, wondering if her heart was ready for it. She agonized over this and in the end did not call Fareeha.

It felt like a sign when she ran into her ex’s mom that same day at the mall. Angela was perusing the sales section for something nice to wear at the next play party when Ana tapped her on the shoulder. The wadjet tattoo over her left eye was instantly recognizable and Angela jumped into Ana’s open arms without a second thought and found she had missed more than Fareeha’s warmth-- she had missed the Amari family’s hospitality. 

“How have you been?”

Angela was happy to have only positive things to say. That surprised her, but as she spoke with Ana, the things she thought that had been too much or grueling were now small compared to the good things in her life. School was still difficult but she had expected that and loved it; it only encouraged her to pass, certain that overcoming the difficulty would make her swell with pride.  
She asked Ana how she was and how Fareeha was. Ana spoke more of Fareeha than herself, saying that the basketball team had yet to lose a game this year, and that despite her best efforts to dissuade her daughter, Fareeha still intended to enroll in the military after this semester. 

“You should come over. I’ll have Fareeha make us something to eat.” 

“Oh no, I--”

“Nonsense. I miss having you over. Are you free tomorrow night?”

She didn’t have anything planned and she missed Ana and Fareeha. She agreed to seven o’clock tomorrow.

Out of the sales pile she found a black top that billowed at the sleeves and black leggings that were sheer at the sides from mid calf down to the knees. On her way home she stopped at the grocery store for ingredients to make a dessert so she wouldn’t come empty-handed tomorrow night.

X

Ana was delighted to see her even before she unveiled her homemade Swiss cheesecake. 

“Come in, the food is almost ready.” 

Ana took the cheesecake from her and set it in the middle of the dining table, where the plates and silverware were already set.

The setup was immaculate and Angela felt underdressed in her jeans and t-shirt. Ana read her expression. “Oh, that’s just Fareeha’s girlfriend. She’s a perfectionist. Please make yourself comfortable.”

Angela took a seat, on edge at the mention of Fareeha’s girlfriend, no longer a rumor but an actuality. 

“Fareeha!” Ana shouted, even though the kitchen was quite close, “come say hello to Angela.”

“Mother I’m right here! And just a moment, my hands are messy.” There it was, Fareeha’s voice, achingly familiar.

And then a new one. “Your friend?”

“...Yes.” Was that a kiss she'd heard in the second of silence? “I’ll be right back, Satya.”

Fareeha had changed: her hair was shorter, coiffed in an undercut, and she now had a tattoo similar to Ana’s under her eye. Somehow that made things easier. Angela stood up to greet her with a timid handshake.

“How have you been?” Fareeha asked her. It had been the same question Ana had asked her yesterday but Angela drew a blank this time.

“I’ve been well,” she said simply, vaguely. “I don’t work at the restaurant anymore.”

“Where do you work now?”

Sudden regret arose and her throat tightened. “I’m ah... in sales.”

“What store?”

“The one nearby my apartment.” Slowly, she could feel herself sinking deeper and deeper down the hole. 

Fareeha watched her quizzically, then freed her from the subject. “What did you bring?” sShe asked, pointing at the ceramic dish.

Angela grinned. “My homemade Swiss cheesecake.”

Fareeha made a move to cut into the dessert, but a footsteps crept behind her, followed by a curt cough that stopped her in her tracks.

Fareeha slowly set down the knife and plate, very caught. As she turned to face the owner behind the cough, Angela followed her gaze to a woman whose dark hair fell past her waist.

She was wearing a blue tunic style dress and a look of appraisal. Angela felt her dark eyes linger over her as she quietly said, “Hello” before she disappeared back into the kitchen. Fareeha followed her.

“I’m sorry.” Ana whispered when they were gone. “I thought you were ready.”

“No,” Angela shook her head, fooling no one. “It’s just… she--”

“Satya is a sweet girl. She meant no harm if that’s what you were wondering. She ran from me too the first few times she came to visit with Fareeha.”

“Is she shy...”

“That’s not it.” 

“Then what?”

Ana shrugged, unsure herself. “It’s not too late to leave if it’s too much.”

It was almost too much, but the smell wafting from the kitchen was heavenly and her stomach growled. Plus she had nothing but cereal at home to eat.

Fareeha reappeared wearing oven mitts as she carried a clay pot. Ana motioned to the square hot pad, and Fareeha set the dish down, sighing with relief. 

“It smells delicious,” Ana said, lifting the top. A waft of steam and the smell of spices was released and everyone’s stomach gave an appreciative growl. 

“Curry,” Angela said, recognizing the smell.

“Correct,” Satya replied. She held a tray of fresh naan.

Fareeha helped her with the tray and they both sat down. Bowls were passed around to be filled, and after the naan made its round around the table, they ate. The food was so good that they ate in perfect silence.

Satya seemed content with the quiet, smiling. For the first time since Angela had laid eyes on her, she was relaxed.

It was only when Ana spoke up that Satya’s eyes twitched irritably upwards, but she made no comment, keeping to herself.

She never joined their conversation about Fareeha’s soon-to-be military career, or when Ana shared stories from when she had served. She didn’t respond either when the focus rested on Angela and her career.

She had eaten in silence up until they cut into the cheesecake.

“Finally,” Fareeha said. 

Angela passed a slice to Ana and then Satya. Satya stared inquisitively at the dessert and slowly took it. 

“Remarkable,” she said, after the first bite.

“Thank you,” Angela replied, relieved that she was finally speaking. “Do you like to bake?” she prodded.

Satya chewed on the question and her bite before answering. “With baking, there is no room for fault. Every ingredient has a purpose and must be exact. It’s beautiful.”

Angela thanked her and complimented her table decorations and the meal. Satya received her praise in silence.

Fareeha helped clear the table, but halfway through Ana shooed her away, probably so she would give Angela company. Angela laughed, seeing that despite how things were different, some things hadn’t changed. 

And yet they had. Angela remembered the last time she had sat on this porch swing with Fareeha. Their relationship had been different then.

“I like Satya,” Angela said, to close the awkward silence.

Fareeha’s eyes widened, surprised and relieved, but still unsure. “Really?”

She meant it. She had overheard Fareeha and Satya’s muted conversation in the kitchen before the food had been served. There had been warmth and sprinkles of laughter. It contrasted with the image Fareeha had left her with five months ago. When Fareeha had finally moved out, she looked starved of all the attention Angela had been unable to give her. Her eyes were longing but also downcast. Her feet pointed in one direction, but her head turned back to Angela, like she was waiting for her to say something to make it right again. She hadn't.

Angela had expected herself to break, seeing Fareeha happy with someone else. The satisfaction and closure was a surprise. In hindsight, she realized that if she had seen Fareeha forlorn and still heartbroken after six months, she would have pitied her.

Did Fareeha see that in her? Did she pity her?

“Are you seeing anyone?” Fareeha asked. Angela had hoped she wouldn’t.

Angela could only give an honest answer. She owed her that. Honesty for honesty. “No, but I’m okay.”

She was. She was only occasionally lonely.

“I’ll be busy soon enough,” she said, thinking about the sudden shift that would come after spring break, finals on the horizon.

“You should find someone who’s a workaholic like you,” Fareeha teased.

“Please,” Angela rolled her eyes. “We’d never see each other if that was the case!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a short sadomasochism scene with Emily, Lena, Angela, and Amélie having fun together. Dash of surprise voyeurism.

“Is that chili?” McCree asked, staring at the leftover curry Angela had just pulled from the microwave. 

“Want to try some?” She dipped a portion of naan into the curry and passed it to him. There was plenty to share and she gave him what she couldn’t finish. She also gave him one of the three slices of cheesecake she had saved for her coworkers. Genji’s piece was in the fridge back at her apartment and Moira’s carefully hidden in the very back of the work mini-fridge. 

However, when Moira came in two hours later, she sniffed at Angela’s offer, stating that she didn’t eat sweets. McCree took advantage of this and snatched the shunned piece of cheesecake faster than Angela could retrieve it.

“What kind of monster doesn’t eat sweets?” Angela asked when Moira was gone.

“Don’t take it personally.” 

“I’m not.”

She was.

The next day, after she gave Genji his piece, she recounted Moira’s reaction.

“I should have warned you,” he said, holding a hand in front of his mouth mid-chew.

“What are you doing for spring break?” she asked to change the subject. She had already asked Fareeha, who had plans with Satya. The conversation had been over the phone, thankfully, considering the brush of envy that coloured her thoughts. Genji was not her last resort, but they spent so much time at the store already, she had hoped to spend her free time with friends she hadn’t seen in awhile. Unfortunately, all of those friends, Fareeha included, had already made plans.

He told her he was going on a roadtrip with a few friends, one of whom he had introduced to Angela at the party, but she didn’t remember him at all.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She averted her eyes and was about to say she was focusing on her studies that week, but he had already caught her melancholy. He rested a compassionate hand on her shoulder. She expected an apology or a pep talk, but neither came. Instead, he told her there was a party that Saturday, same time and place.

“I won’t be there, but I know Lena will be there.”

“What about Amélie?” Angela asked, her despondency shrinking. 

He shrugged. “Maybe. I could give you Lena’s number-- I know she won’t mind-- and you could ask her.”

Angela gave Genji her phone and he entered Lena’s number. “I’ll let her know to expect a message from you,” he said after Angela asked him for the third time if it really would be all right for him to give away her number. 

During break while in line at the ramen shop, she texted Lena. She hoped that even if Amélie wouldn’t be at the party, she could ask Lena questions. Genji was helpful, but there were questions she could only confide in another woman.

 **Angela 5:35PM**  
Hi, this is Angela. We met at the party last month. Genji said it would be okay to give me your number. I hope that’s true.

 **Lena 5:36 PM**  
Hi!!!!

 **Lena 5:36 PM**  
I was wondering when you’d text me a line.

 **Lena 5:36PM**  
So what are you up to?

Angela had barely gotten a word in and the bottom half of the screen showed that Lena was typing another response. 

**Lena 5:36 PM**  
Genji said you were going to the party in two weeks, right?

 **Angela 5:37PM**  
I’m on lunch.

 **Angela 5:37PM**  
Yes. I’m afraid to go alone though. He said you’re there every month?

 **Lena 5:37 PM**  
Sure am!

 **Lena 5:37PM**  
Amélie and Em will be there too!

 **Lena 5:37PM**  
We should do something fun together!

Angela chewed her bottom lip, her eyes widening over the spurt of texts. She was about reply when it was finally her turn in line. She hastily ordered two bowls for her and Genji, and in the process forgot their drink orders, and had to run her card twice. 

When she returned to her phone, waiting on their food, she discovered five messages had been sent while she was distracted.

 **Lena 5:38PM**  
What if Em and Amélie topped us at the same time?

 **Lena 5:38PM**  
If you want to!

 **Lena 5:38PM**  
Em says I can be too forward sometimes.

 **Lena 5:39PM**  
I hope I didn’t scare you off.

 **Lena 5:40PM**  
I’m sorry

The last one had been sent just a minute ago. 

**Angela 5:41PM**  
I’m interested.

 **Lena 5:41PM**  
REALLY?!!!!

Angela smiled at her phone screen and nearly missed the call for her order. Before she got up to fetch it, she sent Lena a quick reply, saying that yes, she really did want to do something together Saturday night.

X

Angela spent the days leading up to spring break weekend discussing the scene planned for the party. The same night that Lena had proposed the idea, a group text was made between the four of them wherein they negotiated play and discussed limits.

Emily and Amélie had thrown out some ideas to see what Angela was interested in, but had not made any concrete plans-- at least Angela had thought so-- until Tuesday, three days into spring break. 

Angela awoke to a text from Emily startling her out of bed:

 **Emily 6:35AM**  
First, we’ll tie you and Lena so that you’re standing face to face.

Angela sat ramrod straight, staring at her phone for the continuation, but none came, no matter how many times she checked her phone that day.

And then, on Wednesday, a text from Amélie.

 **Amélie 12:24PM**  
Lena will be forced to watch your face contorted in pain. She'll want to help you through it, to lean in and kiss the tears from your cheeks.

On Thursday, Angela was already awake, awaiting for Emily’s continuation.

 **Emily 6:30AM**  
The kisses, born out of compassion, may escalate. What will you do if you agree? You’ll both be tied. Maybe if you ask sweetly I’ll touch Lena kinder, where you cannot reach. . 

On Friday, Angela chanced checking her phone while Moira was around.

 **Amélie 4:45PM**  
Lena will beg me to be her hands to touch you, but as you know I am not a gentle creature. 

Saturday, nothing. Not even a text from Lena, who had been oddly quiet the whole week. 

“Do you have something planned for tonight?” Moira asked, after she caught her with her phone out.

Angela quickly stowed the phone away, ready for Moira’s reprimand. It never came; her eyes rested on Angela, genuinely inquisitive. Although she had taught Angela how to close the store, she continued to work with her in the evenings while Genji was on vacation. At first, Angela thought it was because the store was busy because of spring break, but Wednesday and Thursday had been relatively boring. Moira said she had to take inventory, and that it was easier to take care of things on site instead of from home. Angela had the suspicion that Moira didn’t think she was responsible enough to close the store on her own, and she had been irritable since Thursday.

Angela wondered why Moira cared to know what she would be doing after work. It wasn’t like her to make small talk.

“Nothing,” she lied. And then she made the mistake of asking Moira what she had planned, but was relieved that her answer was as boring as her own.

“I’ll be selling some of our wares for a private party.” Moira had mentioned this before. Sometimes women would host parties from home, but instead of tupperware or makeup, the wares were sex toys.

“If you’ve nothing to do, you could come with me. It would be a good training opportunity.”

“I meant nothing interesting,” Angela quickly explained. “I’m getting a head start studying for finals.” She was relieved that Moira didn’t argue with her.

“Going to school to be a doctor is no easy task,” Moira said, “and the work never ends.” For once, there was no teasing or judgement in her tone. The few times she had seemed to be respectful of Angela, she had been aloof, but even that tone was absent. She sounded almost wistful.

“Did you want to be a doctor?” Angela timidly asked.

Moira gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and moved from the display she had been tending to. She drifted to the sanctity of her back office, and although she had said nothing, Angela knew to never ask again.

X

Moira left early that evening, entrusting her to close the store. Angela still had a twinge in her chest. It seemed silly to think she was responsible for her boss’s early leave, but the guilt wouldn’t leave her. She changed into the leggings that showed off her ass and double-checked the locks and lights before she left the store.

The party was an hour's walk, so she took a cab instead and wondered after she’d paid the fare how she’d pay for the ride home. She wanted to avoid asking her new friends for help while she was developing her reputation. The thought of walking home alone at night that far a distance was ridiculous even for her, however. She could imagine Genji scolding her later if he found out and decided to ask Lena for a ride.

Going alone to the party didn’t fully sink in until the temporary paper bracelet was stuck to her wrist and the black velvet curtain fell behind her. She crossed her arms as she searched for a table. All were taken and she didn’t recognize anyone she had talked to last time. Angela was not usually shy. Often she helped her classmates with their homework, and when it came to introductions, she was usually the first to extend her hand. But those were all vanilla settings, with a set of rules that she was accustomed to. Even though she had been here before, she was still nervous, still unsure where was safe to look.

As if reading her thoughts, another guest came up beside her and reassured, “Watching is participating.”

But that had only made her scurry away to the far corner to watch the scenes that were already playing out, looking for Lena, Amélie, and Emily. 

She thought about pulling out her phone to text them or to tell Genji that she missed him, but there was a strict no cell phone policy. While she anxiously waited, she watched two men wearing dog ears crawl on their hands and knees around a woman waving treats above their heads. The men wore gloves and knee pads for protection and leather chest harnesses decorated with spikes for flair. Watching them reminded her of Genji and his hooded dog mask and she found herself missing his supportive company all over again.

On the right of the puppy play scene there were two men playing. One wore assless chaps and cowboy boots, his arms tied behind his back with rope and chest pressed to the floor. The other man was tattooed, and except for the beard and serious manner, he almost looked like Genji.

The man who was tied up was facing away but Angela couldn’t shake off how familiar he was. She went between watching the rope scene and the puppy play until Lena came up behind her, covering her eyes.

“Guess who!”

“Hmm… it couldn’t be Lena because she’s much shorter than you are-”

“Hey!”

“Très petit,” Amélie chimed in.

“No fair!” Lena pouted, and Emily gently patted her on the head.

“Dear, we haven’t even started beating you and you’re already pouting.”

Lena made a big show of puffing out her chest and cheeks before she broke character and exploded into a fit of laughter.

There was a space available between the two scenes Angela had been watching earlier. Emily mentioned that she was grateful this part of the room wasn’t taken up because she had plans to utilize the play furniture that was fixed to the spot. Taking the texts she had received all week in mind, Angela could see why. It was a pyramid-shaped fixture with cushioning from the shoulders down and vertical metal bars the rest of the way up. This allowed her and Lena to be tied facing each other, but not close enough to kiss, Angela thought, disappointed. 

But they were able to reach for each other through the bars and touch, and partially true to Amélie’s texts, Lena did wipe Angela’s tears away. Angela would have liked them to be swiped with the edge of Lena’s tongue, but it was still warming to feel her wipe the tears away and to watch her lick the salt off her fingertips. Angela returned the same kindness when Emily dealt a hard blow. She watched, transfixed, as Lena accepted her fingers into her mouth and gently suckled. She watched until Amélie hit her so hard she blinked.

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze wandered from Lena to the crowd. Amazingly, no one appeared to be watching them, perhaps distracted by another scene nearby. There was only one person watching, from the far end of the room near the vendor tables, with her arms crossed, wearing the flashiest clothes out of them all.

‘Moira...?’ Angela mouthed. 

Amélie struck her, but she did not shiver from the force of the cane. It was Moira’s crude smile that had chilled her.

Her interactions with Moira had been professional and few. Since she had started working at the store, Angela couldn’t understand exactly why she was drawn to someone so foreboding.

And she still didn’t understand-- helplessly tied and beaten-- why she didn’t want her to look away.

“Are you okay?” Lena whispered.

Angela grudgingly looked away and put on a smile for her friend. “I got distracted is all.”

“There’s a lot of people tonight.” Lena threaded their fingers together but all Angela could feel was Moira’s lingering gaze.

X

She confronted Moira afterwards, skirting aftercare despite Emily and Lena’s best wishes. 

“What are you doing here?!” Angela exclaimed, certain that this was a cruel joke.

“I’m guilty of being here just as much as you. I won’t tell your boss,” Moira teased.

“That’s not what I mean! You’re following me, aren’t you?”

Moira calmly gestured to the table she was standing behind. “This is the party I told you about earlier.”

Whips, canes, and many other products were spread across the table. Angela recognized the items as things they kept on the shelves at the store, among a few things she had never seen before.

“Those are new. I normally give the community first rights to buying anything we haven’t sold before. And these…,” Moira picked up a dragontail whip, teal-colored elk skin, “...are my own design.”

She placed it in Angela’s shaking hands. Dangling from the end of the dragontail was a price tag. If this was a ruse, it was perfectly formulated. That sounded like Moira, to orchestrate a perfect alibi to give her free reign to harass her.

“Do you have one in purple, Moira?” Amélie asked, stepping in beside Angela.

“I always have a purple one for you.” Moira ducked under the table, and with an exaggerated bow, handed it to Amélie.

“As you can see, I’m a regular vendor at this event.”

Angela set the dragontail down, disdainful. “You weren’t here last time.” And Genji never told me, she thought to herself. She would text him later.

“Moira has been here longer than me,” Amélie said. “Without her I wouldn’t have the arsenal to put you in your place, Ange.”

“Nonsense, Amélie. I’m not the only vendor here with quality products.”

Amélie’s brows raised, “I’ve never known you to be humble.” She glanced at Angela. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing.” Angela said. Moira said nothing.

Amélie paid for the dragontail and placed a hand on Angela’s shoulder, guiding her away. “Sit down a moment with Lena and Emily.”

“I’m fine,” Angela argued irritably. 

“Non. You ran off without giving yourself time to rest.”

That much was true. Now that she was away from Moira, her blood had cooled. On her way back to Lena and Emily, she picked up the blanket she had brought with her and wrapped it around herself. There was water already there for her to drink, and after three scant sips she drew the blanket over her head and sulked in her fluffy cocoon.

She didn’t emerge until much later, when many of the guests had left and the vendors were all packed up. There was still a half an hour until the party ended and clean up would begin, but her friends were ready to go.

“Are you going to be okay?” Lena asked, gently she peeled back the edges of the blanket and peered down at her through the hole.

Angela nodded and stretched out of the blanket, yawning. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Lena shook her head and took her hands. “That’s what friends are for. And the things we do can get intense, it’s only fair to check up on you.”

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes as Lena kissed her cheek. “I’m all right now.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It was only after Lena left that Angela realized she forgot to ask for a ride. She folded up her blanket and went outside to pull her phone out. It was two in the morning and the air was strangely humid for a spring evening. 

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to walk home all the way from here.” It was Moira’s voice. Angela looked up from her phone and found her a few paces away near the railing. It was rare to see her sitting still. There was a cigar between her fingers. Smoke and the smell of cloves twined upwards into the air like white ephemeral vines. 

“I was just about to call a cab,” Angela said, scrolling through the directory on her phone.

“I’ll give you a ride.” 

“I was rude to you, you know that?” Angela said softly. It was strange. In the company of her friends, she had wanted to prove something, but alone and worn she didn’t have the energy. She had forgotten what she was trying to prove. 

“I’m aware, but it was because I surprised you.”

“It’s a public space, I should be prepared to run into people...”

The cigar glowed as Moira inhaled. Angela watched pensively. “Anyone but me.”

“That’s-”

It was true. If it had been Fareeha, Ana, or anyone else, she wouldn’t have blown up in a frightful anger. 

“There’s no sense hanging onto what’s happened. Let me give you a ride.”

She was always giving Angela a ride after they closed shop together, except for this previous evening before the party. This time would be no different, Angela told herself. In the back of her mind, she knew it would. 

The car ride would have been graciously silent if Moira hadn’t put in one last quip. “I thought you were straight.”

They had a twenty minute ride ahead of them. It would be awkward to ignore the statement. “I’m bisexual.”

Moira chuckled. “So you haven’t picked a side.”

Angela rested her feet on the dashboard and was satisfied to see Moira scowl.

“There isn’t a side to pick. There is only desire.”

The scowl fell in place of something darker. “And what is your desire?”

Angela thought about the first book Moira had caught her with, and the one after that with the bookmarker sloppily replaced, and then tonight, caught with her hands tied, nearly naked.

“You already know that.” 

The silence stretched like the miles on the road. There was something palpable between them that had always been there, but until now there had been no opening for it to be acknowledged. Angela waited for something to happen: a hand above her knee, Moira to pull the car over and her into a kiss, daring to ask what she ‘already knew.’ None of the three scenarios happened. Moira allowed the moment to pass, and Angela wasn’t sure if she was grateful. She knew she should be, but once Moira had asked, she found herself anticipating a result.

When Moira parked the car outside of her apartment, she lingered in the car seat, but whatever could have happened remained a fantasy she gradually walked away from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have any idea how hard it was not to spoil my own fic.


	7. Chapter 7

Moira didn’t show on Sunday and Angela took that as a sign that she was apologizing to her. McCree found it unusual too, checking the door as much as Angela. 

They read their dirty magazines in silence.

X

Genji was supposed to be back on Monday but he called in that morning. He and and his group were still out of town, temporarily stranded due to two flat tires. When Angela came in, she saw Moira in Genji's place, busy with a vendor. She gave Angela a slight wave before turning back to the man. 

Angela started to plan out a display. The one that had been out was weeks old and she wanted to change it before Moira mentioned it. As she tried to conjure a theme, it materialized in front of her. The dragon tails Moira had sold at the play party had recently joined the rest of the items in the kinky section. Angela took two of them off the shelf, a whip, and soothing aloe gel to start off with.

She hadn’t noticed the craftsmanship of the dragon tails the night Moira had showed them to her, distracted by Moira's presence. They were soft but sturdy. Curious, she folded the tail of one to form a makeshift paddle, and smacked the palm of her hand.

The sound seemed to call Moira. She was beside her in an instant. The vendor had left.

Angela explained that she was putting together a display and then asked, because it had crossed her mind after touching the dragon tails again,“What else have you made?”

Moira turned wordlessly back to the kinky section and Angela followed. In the past she would have been afraid, on edge, being this close to Moira, and she still was, but since last night she had accepted the reason was that she was nervous.

Solemnly, Moira turned to face her and pointed to the finely crafted toys she was proud of. 

Angela pulled them off the shelves. One of them, a paddle, was too high to reach, and Moira passed it to her. 

“Have you ever used them?”

Moira shook her head, arms crossed. 

“Have you ever...” Angela dared, then faltered, twisting the set of gloves in her hands.

“Tried?” Moira suggested.

“It just seems silly to make things and not use them yourself.”

“Are you suggesting I use them on someone?” Moira’s eyes focused on her and slowly she extricated the leather gloves from her hands. As Moira took the gloves, her freshly trimmed nails grazed Angela's inner wrist. Angela wanted to believe the action was intentional.

Moira continued, since Angela hadn't answered. “I have friends who test them out for me, if that’s your concern.” She raised a brow and began to put on the gloves. A perfect fit. “Or is it something else?”

Angela loosed the breath she was holding. So that was it: they were baiting each other, waiting for the other to say something first. At least, it seemed that way. Angela wasn’t sure, even though the air prickled with heady anticipation. 

If she admitted her attraction, she risked embarrassment, if Moira broached the subject, she chanced both playing the fool and landing a sexual harassment lawsuit. The question was if the risk was worth it. They could both lose, but that fleeting moment that could be gained was seductive, and became more alluring the longer they held eye contact.

The gloves were soft under Angela’s fingers, and warm now that they hugged Moira’s hand. Moira watched her trace the lining and then she slowly pulled away. “Before we leave, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Why not now?” 

The moment had slipped away, just like that, just like the other night. Angela frowned, worried. 

Moira pointed to the door that had just opened and the flock of customers that flooded in. Wordlessly, she left to talk to the small group that broke off to the right. Angela took the left side.

There were plenty of other times Moira could have resumed the subject that night, but she found every opportunity and excuse to avoid Angela until then. An hour before the store closed, she left to pick up dinner, and when she returned Angela was disheartened that she had only brought enough for herself.

Whatever Moira had to say, it would not be over dinner for two.

She was still wearing the leather gloves when Angela finally came into her office, dangling the key to the store on her ring finger anxiously. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

Moira looked up from her laptop but didn’t yet close it. “Please, take a seat.”

Angela looked around. There was nowhere to sit on except the egg crate or on top of Moira’s desk. She chose Moira’s desk.

At that, Moira finally closed her laptop and steepled her fingers thoughtfully. She looked as if she were torn between scheming and laughing, as if Angela’s boldness entertained her.

“What? There’s nowhere else to sit.”

“You could stand.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” That might have come off flirtatiously. Maybe she was feeling bold now that she was a little more certain about Moira’s interests.

Moira sighed and pressed her steepled fingers to her forehead. “That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” She straightened and looked directly at her. “How long do you plan to work here?”

Before Angela answered, Moira continued speaking, her brows knit. It seemed she was doing everything in her power to be hard. That was unlike her. The Moira that Angela knew did things effortlessly, including managing her own control. “As long as you’re my employee, we can’t be sexually involved.”

Angela was still in pre-med, and even then, she had several years of school to look forward to after that. She had looked forward to holding a stable part-time job until her residency training. 

As if hearing the gears turn in her head, Moira said, “I know. You don’t want to wait that long. But you have to understand, I’ve risked it all before. I can’t do it again.”

Angela wanted to say it was Moira’s fault anyway for teasing her, but she realized how childish and unattractive that would sound. So instead she said, ambiguously, still coaxing her, “I can’t wait, but how can you be certain you can?”

“I’ve been celibate for ten years. Another five? Seven years? I can wait.”

Angela’s eyes widened, caught off guard. She couldn’t fathom ten years, much less a year without a partner. The past five months without Fareeha, before she had met Genji and then Amélie, had been difficult. She had been touch-starved and was even still aching for more. She couldn’t fathom how Moira could handle it, much less welcome the challenge.

Perhaps that was what had happened. Moira had been without affection for so long she didn’t remember what it felt like. That explained several things: her aloofness, her weirdness, her everything-ness.

Angela steadily felt the tables turn in her favor. She was already perched on Moira’s desk. She leaned forward and reached for the pen between Moira’s fingers. She hadn't been writing anything. It was entirely possible that Moira had just picked it up out of nervous habit.

Angela swallowed her own bundle of nerves and exhaled. Her breath warmed Moira’s forehead. Her hands found leather-- a gloved hand-- and she pressed her fingertips earnestly into the space between thumb and forefinger. The gesture was simple, its meaning apparent, and it worked. She heard Moira shudder underneath her.

Deftly, Angela probed until Moira turned her hand around to hold her own. Moira narrowed her eyes, suddenly intimidating again. Slowly, Angela felt her grip on the situation pulled out from under her. Moira dragged her forward, a fistful of blonde hair in her hard grasp. 

“You,” she said tersely, “are bad.”

Angela whined, unbidden. She tested Moira’s hold on her. A flutter of exhilaration beat inside her.

“Remember.” As Moira kissed her, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “This is what you wanted.”

“Please,” Angela whispered in-between bites and kisses, pulling at the front of Moira’s shirt. She scrambled to touch, to kiss with enough zeal to convince her. Her blood raced and she broke into a cold sweat, but it was not Moira’s advances that scared her. It was the threat that they would end, that like the other night and earlier this evening, she would change her mind again.

Her fingers got stuck trying to undo the purple tie. Moira laughed at her before she helped free her fingers. She pulled the tie completely loose and asked for Angela to show her hands.

Angela did.

“Now,” Moira said, sliding the silk across her wrists. “This won’t be tight. You can get out of it at any time if you want and we can stop as soon as you say so. Do you understand?”

Angela nodded, captivated. As Moira promised, the makeshift bonds were flimsy, a test to see how committed she was, and an allowance in case she changed her mind.

Moira moved the two rabbit figurines off the desk before she continued. She went straight to the point and hiked Angela’s skirt up.

“You’re soaked already.”

She gave a sharp, mocking ‘tsk’ of disapproval. “I could smell you before you came into my office, but it was a different smell. You were afraid-- until you didn’t care anymore and made yourself comfortable on my desk. I find it admirable how you’re able to face your fears, Angela...”

Angela jolted at the sound of her first name on Moira’s lips, and then the gloved fingers seeking the heat of her sex.

The gloves were abrasive and she soaked the material. But she held her tongue, afraid that Moira would find any cause to stop. In time, she found the pain pleasant and became wet again.

Later, when Moira drove her home, the car stopped in front of Angela’s apartment. Angela leaned over to kiss her goodbye, but the kiss lingered, as did Moira’s hand. With their seatbelts still on, the car purring in park, her hard hand advanced further upwards. Somewhere in the middle she finally removed the gloves to sink her fingers knuckle deep inside Angela again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to keep updating weekly but at this point I'm in the middle of writing chapter 9 and that's cutting it close. I had hoped to write tons during spring break but I did everything but that (including catching a cold).
> 
> The next chapter is a long one. I could either post next Wednesday (April 4th) and then skip the Wed after or skip next week's update and post on April 11th. 
> 
> Let me know. . .
> 
> I'm glad they finally fucked too. Now I can talk about my own fic again.


	8. Chapter 8

When she woke the next morning, she was certain it had all been a dream, until she found the gloves on her nightstand still ripe with the smell of her own sex.

The gloves had been tan. After last night there was some discoloration.

The gloves were ruined.

She'd ruined everything, certain that she would get a call to not even bother coming in. 

The only thing that encouraged her to come into work later that evening was Genji’s return. He had texted her near closing time last night while she was being fucked roughly on Moira’s desk.

Of course, she couldn't share this and replied blandly.

There was no trouble avoiding the topic. As soon as she came in for work, he started to excitedly share the finer details of his vacation. Most notably he had met a man, a friend of a friend, and also there was an orgy. Again, between friends. 

“Did you… with him?”

“No,” Genji lamented. “He was in the next room meditating.”

“Did he know about what was happening next door?”

Genji said that not only had his crush known of the orgy, he had also checked in with the group hours later to ask if they needed anything. 

Angela's thoughts drifted, wondering how she would fare in that position. If Lena asked her to watch as Amélie and Emily pulled one orgasm after another out of her until she was a shaking, overestimated mess, Angela would want to say yes, but the words would be stuck in her throat. Genji said that the man he had met-- Zenyatta-- was shy, but Angela found him bold. 

For most of the day, in-between customers and cleaning the store, Genji waxed and waxed on about Zenyatta. In many ways, Angela envied him. She could still feel Moira’s touch on her and she wanted to share it, but knew better than to do so. So she swept the floor in silence, nodding and smiling as Genji leaned against the counter and talked.

Towards the end of their shift, he finally asked how her spring break had gone, and if she had gone to the party. Angela told him everything about her scene with Lena, Emily, and Amélie up until the point when she noticed Moira watching her, and he seemed satisfied with that and brought up Zenyatta again. 

As the weeks progressed, Angela wished she could talk about it, with him or someone. Since that night, Moira had scarcely talked to her and had given her more work than she had before. Angela felt like she was being punished in the worst of ways, and found herself wringing the set of ruined gloves in frustration.

Moira’s concerns about Angela’s relationship with Genji had subsided, at least. Now the two closed nearly every night, but in exchange Angela no longer saw Moira in the evening, only on Sunday. Never after dark.

But Moira was her boss and Angela was persistent. A private meeting, however rare, would occur eventually.

Angela found her opportunity one Sunday. Moira had walked in, dressed like she had just come from church in a suit and tie. It was notable how she avoided Angela and only greeted McCree. It stung.

Angela took all the hurt in that brief moment and steeled herself. She told McCree she had to fetch something from her locker, but she wasn’t sure if he heard, nose pressed to the latest issue of ‘Check Out His Guns.’

She marched to the back, right past her locker to Moira’s desk, softly illuminated by the desk lamp. 

Moira didn’t stir at the sound of her step. It irritated Angela how Moira had perfected the art of ignoring someone. 

“Moira.”

Nothing.

“Ms. O’Deorain.”

Moira licked her thumb and picked up a page from the stack of papers that she pretended held her rapt attention.

Angela sighed, shoulders low. She stared at the floor, thinking, and for whatever reason, her mind drew back to the night of the party that had been the catalyst for current events. The thing that had made Moira pause, even forget to offer her a ride after closing...

Angela wet her lips, she wondered if she would sound silly but she said it anyway.

“Doctor.”

At that, Moira’s eyes flicked upwards and Angela caught her gaze. Held it. 

Moira colored, caught. She raked a tired hand through her hair and glared. “Yes, Ziegler.”

“Last month, you offered to train me to vend for private parties.” She shifted where she stood. She wanted to say something else, but McCree was within earshot.

“Did I?” Moira said vaguely, returning to the paperwork, where it was safer.

“Yes.” Angela firmly replied.

“You won’t be able to play, you know,” Moira finally said. “I expect you to be as vigilant a worker there as you would in my store. And you would have to be there from setup to breakdown. Wouldn’t you rather spend your evening at home, studying?”

“No, I want to learn.” Angela balled her fists and waited.

Only the rustle of papers answered until Angela turned on her heel to storm out. But then Moira’s voice stopped her, just as she reached the curtain. 

“I’ll consider it. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going.”

Angela gathered a controlled breath before she spoke. “Thank you.”

X

The following day the schedule for next week was released and Angela found herself confronting Moira again, alarmed.

“Why are my hours cut?”

Moira set down her coffee and papers, surprising Angela. “You’ve saved me the trouble of fetching you, Ziegler.” 

Angela knitted her brows, shaking, already calculating her expenses in her head and thinking of where she could go to apply for a new job. Had she noticed any ‘help wanted’ signs on her way to the shop this afternoon? If she had passed any, she’d have ignored them, too complacent with how things were.

Moira rose from her desk and rested a hand on Angela’s shoulder, easing her into a sitting position. Since there was nowhere else to sit, Angela found herself planted on the desk. 

“It’s not what you’re thinking. There is a party Friday evening that I’d like you to help me with if your schedule permits. However, if I kept your hours as they usually are, it would count as overtime. Unless you’re willing to work in the shop and then work after hours? I could arrange that, but I didn’t want to push you.”

“No, that’s...” Relieved of her worries, her mind was blank. “But the next event isn’t until next Saturday.”

Moira grinned. “This is a different venue: a house party.”

Something in Moira’s smile piqued her interest. “What should I expect?”

“Dress as you would here at the store and be ready at 7:30 to be picked up.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Angela shook her head. “Will people be--?”

“Having sex? Possibly. It’s a high protocol dinner with a party to follow.”

High protocol: the name itself made her curious despite her unease. She had wanted to ask Moira what that was, but had been distracted, surprised by the whole turn of events in the office. One moment she had thought she was on the cusp of losing her job, the next moment, surprised by a party that was a level above what she had just experienced two months ago. She was still acclimating. She wondered if she was ready. But Moira would probably find her foolish to ask for training. And anyway, Angela wanted to talk to her about something. They would be alone, in her car for the drive there and back. 

So she didn’t decline the job, or ask what the term meant. She turned to Lena instead, who promptly answered her questions, albeit with the briefest answers. But what Angela took from it was that there were a lot of rules, rituals, and servitude. That only terrified her more.

 **Lena 10:22 PM**  
Much too strict for me! Amélie likes to go to those though. She might be there.

The promise of a familiar face helped Angela’s nerves, and eventually she was able to focus on her studies.

X

She wasn’t sure if she should tell Genji she would be working one-on-one with Moira, or about the high protocol dinner. She wasn’t sure what was safe to say without alluding to what she had done with Moira.

She hated the sudden distance and how Genji seemed to be oblivious to that distance.

They still ate at the ramen shop most nights after work, but one evening it was closed for a birthday party so they went to a nearby cafe instead. Angela was familiar with the place. The coffee was strong. There was a rumor that the brew was stolen from a company that originally used it for their security guards. She warned Genji about the coffee, unsure if he was was prepared to stay up the rest of the evening.

He wasn’t and ordered tea; they split a coffee cake. 

There were both so tired they stared vacantly out through the window as they ate. On a weekday at this hour, hardly anyone was passing by outside. Usually they pointed out someone attractive they saw and teased each other.

Usually Angela didn’t have secrets to hide.

“Are you okay?” Genji finally asked, offering her the last bite of cake.

Angela stabbed the piece with her fork and chewed so she wouldn’t have to answer verbally. She nodded and made it convincing with a smile.

And then, Genji’s eyes widened as he glanced up-- rather at someone behind her who had just entered the cafe.

“It’s him,” he whispered, hunkering down.

Angela righted him. “Sit up!” 

It wasn’t like him to be shy. She looked over her shoulder to face the object of her friend’s affections and saw a slight man, wearing baggy pants drawn tight at the waist and a long-sleeved turtleneck. His head was shaved, that she had already known from Genji’s descriptions, but at the moment his head was covered by a knitted cap. In some ways he wasn’t what she imagined and she felt ashamed for stereotyping. 

“Go say hi,” she hissed.

“I’m trying.”

“It looks like you’re hiding under the table.”

“Like I said: I’m trying!”

Eventually, she was able to coax him from under the table. Once he was on his feet, the bravado Angela often associated Genji with returned, and she watched the two carry out a humble conversation. Then they parted ways, a steaming beverage cupped in Zenyatta’s hands.

“Well?”

“I bought him a drink.” 

“And?”

“He said thank you.”

Angela gently stabbed the middle of Genji’s chest. “And you called me a ‘useless lesbian!’”

Genji flushed deeper than he already had been from just talking to Zenyatta. “I’m not usually like this.” 

That, Angela was aware. She smiled and tilted her chin. “What’s different about him?” 

“He’s… self aware? Confident...? He makes me feel at ease. Like I don’t have to try so hard or pretend.”

“Funny...” Angela purred over her drink. “You seemed anything but at ease around him.” And then, “Why didn’t you introduce us?”

He bought her another coffee in recompense. 

X

The Saturday of the high protocol dinner, Angela meant to sleep in but couldn’t. She was nervous or excited. Also there were road workers right outside her apartment hammering through concrete. 

She spent the day as leisurely as a workaholic could. She ate her breakfast with her nose in a book and went over her notes. Then she finished the rest of her homework and stretched and did a lap around her neighborhood for fresh air.

Then she hit the books again.

When evening fell at five she took a quick shower and got ready, dressing per Moira’s instructions as she usually would at the store: jeans and a black shirt. However, she kept her hair down and did a side part. She wore makeup also.

Then she waited, reading a memoir for leisure as she stroked the leather gloves pensively.

Moira was early at 7:20 with a knock at the door. Angela stepped aside to let her in, but Moira ignored the gesture and walked away, expecting her to follow.

So she did.

X

The car ride to the dinner party was quiet, just the sound of Moira inhaling and then exhaling. The smell of clove cigars was pungent. Angela didn’t like the smell of ashes and cigarettes, but the smell of Moira’s cigars had become a comforting smell. She hoped the scent embedded itself deep into the fibers of her clothes and wouldn’t let go.

It was only towards the end of the drive that Moira seemed to realize Angela might like some music, and turned the radio on to the first station that wasn’t playing commercials. Moira was still humming to Bowie when she put the car into park. 

The house was tall and looked like it might be haunted from the outside. On the inside it was warm and a little cramped. The owner was a hoarder, Angela thought, and there were several people inside utilizing the remainder of the space. Moira clucked her tongue and muttered under her breath. Whatever it was she had said in Gaelic, Angela agreed.

There was a little more room to accommodate guests at the heart of the house. Moira found the host, a man with a handlebar mustache, and set up shop along the wall next to the head mount of a wild boar. Moira used one of the boar’s tusks to hang her jacket and the other to hang a small handful of floggers.

Angela stepped aside at Moira’s insistence and watched her set up the table. Everything was arranged meticulously, obsessively. If Angela moved one of the tails of a flogger, she was sure Moira would notice-- so she didn’t. She left everything as it was. Only the customers or Moira were allowed to disturb the pieces. 

She spent the evening observing Moira as she worked and the goings-on at the dinner party. There were the guests in their various states of dress or undress. If they were naked, their hair was pinned up, and if they were dressed, they wore something nice and black. The only exception to this were those serving the guests: the women were completely naked save for black and red ribbons around their necks, and the men all wore red banana hammocks and black and red bow ties with cufflinks. Moira explained that they were servants for the evening, a role that they chose. Angela noted that these participants of the party did not maintain eye contact with anyone, among other curious gestures she could only assume were part of the role or ritual.

There was an uncomfortable realization that most of the dominant figures in the room were men. This, she wasn’t surprised by. Even at the last two parties she had gone to, there was an exorbitant amount of dominant men and heterosexual couples. Increasingly, Angela found herself searching for Amélie within the crowd, and just as she was about to accept she wouldn’t be there, there she was. 

Their eyes locked and Amélie parted the crowd with only her presence to reach their table. As she grew closer, Angela could see how she accomplished this: she was wearing a black, sinewy underbust corset and black lace pasties over her nipples. She wore black tap pants with sheer purple lace accentuating her thighs and drawing the eye down to the over-the-knee lace-up boots with stiletto heels. The entire ensemble looked like it would be uncomfortable on anyone else but Amélie. 

“Quel soulagement! Finally some women.”

“What about the other women you just passed?” a masculine voice called from behind her. 

She turned to face a man who was serving at the party. His hair was raven-colored and slicked back like Amélie’s. 

“Lesbian women,” she embellished, and then she stepped aside so the man could introduce himself.

“Gerard, Amélie’s husband.” He had small, kind eyes and a mustache that pointed at both ends like tiny triangles. 

He extended his hand. Angela accepted it with shock, Moira with none.

She was married! Angela had never considered it, assuming that the ring on Amélie’s finger was from Lena.

Amélie didn’t catch her surprise, instead focused on Gerard who was teasing her for liking women more than him. 

“They don’t often go to events together,” Moira said, offering some explanation. “He must have come for her.”

“She never mentioned him.” 

“Even when she does, people often forget that she’s married-- or if they do remember, they think Lena is her wife. She wasn’t hiding it from you.”

“I know but... I never pictured it. Her with a man.”

“Does it bother you?”

Angela chewed her lip, “I don’t know. I guess I’m tired of seeing the same sort of couples and power dynamics tonight. When I saw her I was relieved to see someone I could relate to.”

“This party is very straight, isn’t it? They all are. But she looks happy to see you for the same reasons you have.”

“I guess,” Angela said quietly before Amélie returned, this time without Gerard who had gone to fetch her a glass of champagne. She made small talk with Moira before she regarded Angela with marked interest. 

“Are you working all evening or will your boss be gracious enough to give you a break?”

Angela raised her head, surprised. “What about your husband?” And then, another concern: Moira had told Angela she wouldn’t have time to play, that it would all be strictly business. 

“It would be cruel even for me to not give you a break.” Moira chimed, uncharacteristically cheery and merciful.

“Magnifique!”

X

Gerard did return with the glass of champagne, but left soon after to attend to the other party guests. Amélie asked Angela what sort of play she was interested in tonight.

Angela glanced at the crowds, keenly aware that she and Amélie would be the only women playing together under the male gaze. They had been watched by men before, but the large margin of female submissives paired with male dominants and the uncomfortable space heightened Angela’s concerns. 

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to...”

“Non, don’t apologize. Would you like to sit down and talk?”

They had just begun to sit down when a group came into the room and began to have sexual intercourse. Angela said nothing and tried to ignore it. She was relieved when Amélie rose and asked if it was ok to talk outside, and further if she minded that she smoked. 

Angela said she didn’t mind, grateful to leave the room and its new occupants. Amélie retrieved her jacket from the coatroom on their way out to cover herself.

Once outside, Amélie finally shared her thoughts. “They could have asked first.”

Angela almost asked who, but quickly remembered. She nodded, agreeing. “But that sort of thing is to be expected, isn’t it?”

“Even so, they had entered the space we created for ourselves. There is still common courtesy, common sense to be conscious of.” Amélie lit her cigarette, a little irritable, and inhaled.

Her cigarettes smelled different from Moira’s cigars, like cherry and hot coals.

Amélie offered Angela a cigarette that she politely declined.

Angela leaned against the cool brick, resting her cheek there, lost in thought. She wondered if Moira was invested in high protocol, obsessed with its rules. She wondered if Moira had taken her here to test her, to show her these desires before taking anything further. She wondered if she was being too optimistic thinking that after Moira had been making obvious efforts to place distance between them.

“What are you thinking, chérie?”

“Does it bother you that Lena isn’t interested in these sort of parties?” ( ‘That you only go with your husband?’ she didn’t say.)

“I could tell Lena to go with me.”

“But you don’t.”

Amélie shook her head. “No-- I do like to challenge her, but only with things I feel confident she can overcome with relish. I never make her do anything she doesn’t want to.”

And then, out of the blue, she asked, “How long have you been working for Moira?”

“Four months.”

“And sleeping with...?”

“Not long--” 

Amélie’s lips stretched into a wide, monstrous smile and she took another drag, exhaled, smoke framing her face. “But only once, am I right?”

Regretfully, Angela nodded. She was caught, but almost glad to be. To have someone to finally talk to. “Please don’t tell anyone. How did you know?”

“I’m French. I can sense sexual tension.”

“Your ‘spider sense?’” Angela teased; and then, serious again, “I was going to talk to her about it tonight. That’s the only reason I came here.”

“About?”

“Didn’t you say you’re French?” 

“And I also know Moira. She’s a complicated creature.” Amélie’s eyes flitted over Angela, as if turning her over for clues. “It’s not like her to behave.”

“She said she was celibate for ten years.”

“Has it been that long...?” Amélie paused and shook her head. “When I met her, she had just broken up with someone. I never met the woman. But I heard rumors.”

Angela craned her neck. 

“She tried to sue Moira for sexual harassment and quit her job the same day. She outed Moira to her family too. That’s why I’ve never met her ex. Once you betray the local community’s trust like that-- outing someone-- you can never win it back.”

“So she’s afraid.” 

“Gabriel told her not to let it happen again.”

That name again, familiar yet elusive. “But he no longer runs the store.”

“All the more reason to be careful. To not throw away a gift.”

“I wouldn’t do that to her though.” 

“You cannot be sure. You’re young and infatuated. You may change your mind later.”

Angela scowled. The words echoed what many adults had said to her as a child when she expressed her interest in medicine. 

A passing phase.

A whim.

A desire that would extinguish once given form.

And just like then, that sharp criticism only encouraged her. She had had her doubts that she could broach the subject with Moira on the way home until Amélie had stoked that fire within her. In hindsight, she would wonder if that had been intentional.

Moira was within reach hours later, the car packed up and the evening just shy of dawn. Angela yawned, determined to stay awake. 

Moira did not look tired at all, humming along to Bowie again. Angela caught her watching her from the corner of her eye and decided to strike. She leaned back in the car seat and spread her legs, garishly obvious.

“What are you doing, Ziegler.” Not a question-- a statement, a knowing. Moira said it in a tone that implied that Angela was being childish and she wouldn’t fall for it. And yet, Moira continued to glance between the road and Angela’s legs. She was wearing jeans, but the suggestion alone was what solidified it.

“It’s your fault,” Angela said feigning dejection. “You made me want this.”

“I did no such thing,” Moira countered, gripping the steering wheel.

“Then why did you ask me what I desired that night after the party? Why would you read over my shoulder and get jealous when Genji and I became close?” She lowered her eyes, then raised them. “Why touch me, when you don’t mean it?”

Admirably, Moira drove the car without any accident occurring under the weight of Angela’s words. Her hands perspired, leaving streaks on the leather steering wheel. It reminded Angela of the leather gloves on her bedside.

“I’m older than you,” Moira said stiffly. “You’re young, impressionable--”

“And you like that,” Angela said with smug satisfaction.

“As I was about to say,” Moira interrupted, “there is already an imbalance of power, not to mention I’m your boss--”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you hit on me.” Angela crossed her arms. “It’s too late. I’m smitten.”

“You’re the devil,” Moira muttered, then said, “before I was once again rudely interrupted... a power exchange relationship cannot be given if there is no power to exchange in equivalence. It would be inappropriate to pursue it.”

“Then don’t see me as a younger woman, or your employee. See me as your equal.”

“Impossible.”

“YOU’RE impossible.”

“Brat.” The quip was punctuated by the abrupt stop. They had reached Angela’s apartment, though arguing the whole way.

But Angela didn’t stir from her seat. After some time Moira grew impatient and reached over to undo her seatbelt. Somewhere in the process of that her hand drifted, and Angela looked up to face her, eyes and cheeks red with frustration.

“You stubborn girl...” Moira leaned closer and angled her face so that Angela could close the gap between them. Each kiss and touch was an invitation Angela had to chase after, a reassurance that Moira wasn’t taking advantage of her. 

“I hate that you treat me like that.” Angela was leaning back in the car seat again, gasping as Moira undid her pants.

“Like what?”

“Like I’ll hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid of that.”

“Then what?”

Moira raised her eyes. “If I continue this, I’ll do more than harm myself. I’ll harm you.”

“That again? You’ve already decided.”

“Perhaps,” Moira said, untying her hair. “But there is still room to change my mind.”

“If there was, you wouldn’t have picked me up tonight.”

“Why are you so eager, Angela?” Moira’s fingers gripped her chin, and as Amélie did earlier that evening, she peered into her, searching for something. 

Angela swallowed, a lump rising in her throat that Moira must have felt against her wrist. “For the same reasons you are.” 

Moira slipped her hand down Angela’s pants. Gently, she cupped her sex and played with the blonde curls, then her hand moved up to her hip, then again further upwards. Her movements were slow, eyes curious. Her touch was stoic, observational when it should be passionate. Moira’s hand rested on her collarbone before she moved away completely.

“I’m a bit tired,” she apologized, and seeing the look on Angela’s face, gave a wry chuckle. “I’m not running away. We can continue this conversation tomorrow afternoon. 1PM. I’ll pick you up.”

“And what if you are running away?”

“Then you have my number.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry but I'll have to skip a week. Too much happened last week and now I'm behind. See you April 18th! I'll miss you all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay new chapter!
> 
> Contains kink negotiations, oral sex, and training.

Knowing that Angela would be up late due to the party, Moira had given her Sunday off to allow her to sleep in. But Angela found herself wide awake at seven, restless for the afternoon. 

No doubt Moira was also awake. She couldn’t imagine her sleeping in. Angela wondered if she ever did sleep and thought back to Fareeha’s statement that she should find someone who is as much a workaholic as her.

Few understood her ambition, and those who said they did couldn’t handle her spotty availability. Moira was older, unnervingly patient, and had various responsibilities that would keep her occupied while Angela climbed up the ladder. Suddenly, Angela couldn’t imagine herself with someone her age or a few years younger. She couldn’t see her peers handling her drive, her determination, her calling. Even Fareeha hadn’t been able to do it, and she was one of the more mature partners Angela had dated. 

Perhaps that was what had drawn her towards Moira: that Moira needed nobody and was content with her own company. She could take care of herself.

X

Moira's car pulled in at exactly one. She texted that she was waiting, the car still running. 

Angela dropped the textbook she was reading and slipped into her shoes. In her eagerness to meet Moira, she almost locked herself out of her apartment.

When she reached the car, she found Moira toying with the radio stations. Her search for a station ended in nothing but commercials and she turned it off completely. She was wearing a blazer with leather patches at the elbows. Somehow, she made it work.

As Angela opened the passenger side door, Moira reached to pull pamphlets from the seat. At first, Angela thought they were fliers from a vendor, but the words ‘God' and ‘Christ' jumped out at her.

“You don't seem like the type to go to church,” she couldn't help but mention, intrigued by the contradiction.

Moira grimaced, crumbling the papers. “I took my mother to church this morning. She always leaves these, concerned for my ‘immortal soul.’”

“Catholic or Protestant?”

Moira’s lip twitched. “Does it matter? I don't go because I want to.”

“Then how were you raised as?”

“What do you think?” Moira arched a brow.

“Catholic, because you're a lesbian, but I assume you're an atheist now.” A pause. “Am I right?”

Moira shot her an indiscernible look and put the car in drive. Quietly, she turned the radio back on and raised the volume. They endured the commercials until Moira’s patience for it passed and she turned the radio off again.

They arrived at Moira’s house shortly after. The house was surprisingly normal. Angela had imagined a gothic Victorian home with a large gated fence but it was almost suburban. The inside was the same as well, with a few touches that were specifically Moira’s. The decorative style was simple yet opulent. What Moira had spoke quality. In many ways the furnishments reminded Angela of the beautiful desk in Moira’s office, with its leather chair.

Moira asked her to take off her shoes and provided a pair of slippers, and then she gave a brief tour of the household, more out of common courtesy Angela realized than to show off. Of importance was the pet rabbit who had his own room across from Moira’s bedroom. 

“Oscar the Third.”

“There was a First and Second?”

“I’m partial to the name.”

Angela had difficulty pulling herself away from the rabbit, who was pushy as a result of being spoiled rotten by Moira. Whenever Angela began to pull her hand away, Oscar chased after it and butted his head against the tips of her fingers.

Her appetite was the only lure away from Oscar. She managed to get up and follow Moira to the dining room, where two plates were already set. Curiously, there were two thin stacks of paper next to their plates with pens to match.

Moira beckoned her to the sit and Angela immediately reached for the stack of papers.

“A playlist and negotiation form,” Moira explained.

“I thought we were going to talk, Moira.” Angela flicked through the papers.

“We will. This will help move our conversation along and to have a better idea of what we are looking for. I’ve already filled mine out.” Moira pushed the stack that was near her plate forward. “But fill yours out first and then read it. I don’t want my answers to influence yours.”

Angela read the first question: ‘Who will be submissive?’

Catching her expression, Moira added that some of the questions might be redundant. She had printed off a PDF form she had found online years ago.

While Moira went to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on lunch, Angela read the questions, marking off her answers until her curiosity bit at her and she raised her eyes from the paper to the one Moira had filled out already. 

Surreptitiously, she lifted it partially, and head angled close to the table, read the first thing that jumped out at her: ‘Will the submissive promptly obey?’

Moira had checked ‘yes’ for that one, and for ‘May the submissive verbally resist?’ Just as Angela was about to read the next paragraph, Moira returned with a tray in her hands and a look of disapproval on her face.

“I see you don’t take direction well,” she coolly said, laying the tray between them. Sternly, she placed a hand on the stack of paper. Angela let go of it, backing away in her seat.

She stared at her lap, cheeks coloring. “I’m sorry.”

“Something I can punish you for, I suppose.” Moira smirked. “Depending on what we end up negotiating. Do you see pain as punishment, Angela? Most who are new to this do, but there are other methods.”

“Do you usually punish people?” Angela quavered to ask.

Moira stared at her before answering, allowing the question and its gravity to sink in. “This may surprise you, but I don’t believe in punishment. Those who want to serve, will. It’s not something to be forced.”

“But you just said you’d--”

“I was teasing you...” Here Moira paused, wetting her lips. “I feel I should call you something.”

Angela clutched the napkin in her lap. The food between them was cooling fast, forgotten in lieu of the possibilities discussed. 

“What would you call me?” she asked, her breath catching.

“Bunny, if you’ll allow it.”

Angela would have laughed if it wasn’t for the rising tension. Without hesitation, growing eager, she said, “Yes.”

Moira smiled and started to dish food onto their plates. “As I was saying: I was teasing you, Bon Bon.”

“That’s not exactly, ‘bunny.’”

“It popped up and sounded cuter. Do you have qualms about that?”

“No, Mistress.”

At that Moira straightened and stopped what she was doing. Unbidden, her brow and the corner of her mouth twitched unpleasantly. 

“For future reference, I prefer ‘Master.’ But we’re getting ahead of ourselves... finish reading through the questions while you eat and we can discuss it further afterwards.”

This time, perhaps aided by the fact that Moira was watching her, Angela did as asked. Moira sat in perfect silence even after she had finished her meal, her hands settled in her lap, staring out the stained glass window with a perfect serenity that reminded Angela of Satya. 

Forty minutes had passed when she finished filling out the form and passed it on to Moira. They spent more quiet time reading over each other’s answers. Angela was relieved to see that Moira wasn’t interested in high protocol or anal fisting.

“If I marked something that you’re uncomfortable with, please don’t feel pressured to do it for my sake.” Moira said, reaching for her cup of tea.

Angela returned to the document again. There were only a few things that Moira had listed that she wasn’t interested in, one of which she felt she might be able to change her mind about, given the right setting. There was only one thing that disconcerted her...

“You didn’t fill out the safeword question.”

“I put ‘Not applicable.’”

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t believe in safewords. A sufficient ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘stop’ is all that’s needed.”

“You could have written those three down.” Angela took up the pen and did it herself.

“Are you the type who shouts ‘no’ during play without really meaning it?” Moira asked.

“I’m not sure,” Angela admitted.

“Then let’s start out with ‘stop’ until it’s necessary to change it.”

Moira gathered their plates and placed them on the tray. Angela offered to help her with the dishes, but Moira brushed her off, and when that didn’t work, Moira gave her a carrot and a bowl of greens for Oscar’s lunch.

Angela looked forward to spending more time with the rabbit, but once she gave him his food, Oscar wanted nothing to do with her. It stung a little. 

“You’re welcome.” Angela crossed her arms but it was difficult to stay mad at him. She scratched the top of his head (ignoring that he bristled at the unwanted affection) and closed the door behind her. 

She remained near the door, thinking about what they had discussed. She glanced at Moira’s bedroom, the door open a sliver. Very quietly she crossed the short distance of the hallway and peered inside. The discovery was underwhelming. Like the rest of the house, the bedroom was minimally decorated. The bedsheets were a dreamy purple-gray, the comforter also purple. There was a quilt folded in the corner, shaded in several bright colors, unlike Moira’s usual tastes. It looked homemade and worn. There were tiny rabbits stitched in the fabric.

As she peered inside, Angela kept note of the sound of clinking dishes and running water. When both sounds halted she moved from the door and returned to the kitchen.

Moira was drying her hands when she found her, the front of her shirt damp. Angela helped her out of it.

“You are bold for a submissive.” Moira wryly chuckled.

“I have to be,” Angela said. “To tempt you.”

“You’re plenty tempting,” Moira agreed, curling her fingers into the back of her neck. “I just have restraint.”

“That I know how to unravel.” Angela smirked.

“Are you sure you’re not a switch?” Moira paused thoughtfully. “No... a brat.”

Angela scowled at the term. “I liked it better when you called me ‘bunny’.”

“If you don’t want to be called a brat, you’ll have to stop acting like one.”

“I’ll stop acting like one when you’re more forceful,” Angela challenged.

At that, Moira nimbly dug her nails into her skin, right where the spinal cord connected with the skull. It tickled slightly. Briefly, Angela thought about how the most ticklish spots on the human body were areas that were the most vulnerable. Methodically, Moira ran a single fingernail down her spine. The touch was slow, like climbing down a ladder.

Moira was the only one between them that was partially unclothed, but with that single touch, Angela felt as if she had been stripped down. She waited for Moira to find the zipper to her skirt. Her hand was very near it. It infuriated Angela that she still had to help Moira. She started to shimmy out of her skirt but Moira caught her wrists and carefully redressed her. 

“What are you even?!” Angela shouted, nonplussed by the counter-productive action.

“Follow me.” There was an edge of cunning in her voice. The front of her shirt was open, and underneath she wore a gold silk undershirt, with no sign of a bra, or much need for one. Moira caught her staring and smiled. Slowly, she undid the rest of the buttons and let the tie come loose. She held onto the tie after that. Angela was sure that she would use it to tie her wrists again, but she only drew the fabric across Angela’s neck in one clean, silken sweep.

Then Moira let the fabric fall to the floor with an air of finality. Shortly after, the shirt and pants followed in the tie’s footsteps. 

They had nearly made it to the bedroom. They had reached the wall right next to the door of Oscar’s room. Moira pinned her there, thoroughly naked now, and Angela uncomfortably clothed. Her clothes were too tight, or Moira had raised the temperature in the hallway, kissing her like that, or she felt awkward that for once in a sexual situation, she wasn’t the one naked at the drop of a hat.

She realized it was more than that. She knew it when Moira guided her hands across her lithe body and rested it urgently at the crux between her legs. 

Angela stared dumbfounded, at the red hair curling between the spaces of her fingers. She sucked in a breath.

“I don’t...” Angela hesitated, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Really? Haven’t you ever been with a woman before?” Moira raised a brow. “Not that that dissuades me, it just doesn't surprise me--”

“I have before!” Angela’s voice raised a pitch and with her free hand she covered her mouth, apologetic. “Sorry... I have. I just… never did the touching.”

Moira drew back and tilted her head thoughtfully. “A pillow princess are you?”

Angela’s lips tightened and she nodded.

Moira’s lips tightened also, into a slight frown, a tug of disappointment. Angela could see that Moira was on the cusp of saying something, but chose not to.

But she didn’t have to, Angela knew. Moira had made it transparent that she expected reciprocal intimacy.

“But... I’ve never tried.”

Moira’s brow furrowed with a look of guilt, concern. “I don’t want to force you.”

“I want to at least try-- with you,” Angela decided. The journey to this moment had been a matter of months, but it had felt longer. The strain of their sexual tension had nearly ripped them both apart and they had both worked themselves up to here. And Angela had persuaded, seduced and seduced some more all for this. It would be a waste to abandon it just when it was beginning.

And Angela didn’t mind trying. She just felt insecure with her lack of experience.

She went to her knees, imploring the beautiful, tangled red curls of Moira’s sex. She looked up to Moira who was peering down at her, still skeptical. “Please teach me how to please you, Master.”

Moira’s breath hitched and the unwary frown disappeared. Carefully, she ran long fingers through Angela’s hair. “That is all very good-- I like the sound of that...”

“But?”

“But it’s too soon.”

“What is?”

“Calling me ‘Master.’”

“But you called me ‘Bunny.’”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

Moira paused and Angela recognized the look that passed through her, second guessing what she was about to say, afraid it would hurt Angela’s zeal or confidence. Angela almost would have appreciated the thoughtfulness if she wasn’t slightly offended.

“You can tell me.”

A little more silence, and then, “How would you feel if I called you my slave right now?”

Angela waited before speaking, imagining it. She closed her eyes. She let the heaviness of the title fall over her body like a thick velvet curtain. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, slightly embarrassed, realizing that calling Moira her ‘master’ was like calling someone ‘girlfriend’ before the first date, without confirming the relationship with the other person. “I got excited.”

“It’s all right,” Moira said, touching her. “I would like us to reach that point someday, but there remains much that is to be seen. For example...” Her thumb drifted to Angela’s mouth. “...Let’s see if I can teach you how to use your mouth. All this time you’ve been selfishly accepting pleasure, with no regard for the one embellishing you with such sensual treasure. It’s time you’ve learned how hard your past lovers worked to satiate you. Then, the next time I fuck you, you’ll fully appreciate my fingers inside you.”

A blush rose up Angela’s neck all the way to her cheeks. “Yes,” she conceded, planting her hands on the floor in what she considered a submissive gesture.

“You may begin,” Moira said, watching her.

“How should I start?”

“With your mouth.”

Angela swallowed, mouth dry, her nervousness showing. “I thought you were going to teach me.”

“Experience is the best teacher, dear Angela. Now, I want you to pay attention to my reactions-- I must warn you that I am rather quiet. Please don’t let that discourage you.”

Moira stopped talking and Angela stalled, staring at the floor tiles. Gently, Moira cupped the back of her head and encouraged her forward until her lips met the center part of the labia lips. The red curls tickled her cheek, simultaneously soft and coarse. Angela breathed in her scent, a smell that was familiar, distinctly Moira-- and something more, something just recently discovered that she couldn’t describe as anything else but Moira’s sex. 

She was not we. There was only a thin trail of moisture when Angela reached between her legs. Already, Angela had the feeling that the first task Moira had given her was a challenge, an apt one she supposed for new lovers.

And Angela was the first woman Moira had slept with in years. That thought alone was what finally fully encouraged her to take the dive and plant a string of kisses on the lovely mons before her. She touched, kissed, and licked in earnest, with a drive to make up for the ten years of celibacy, and gradually, she forgot her inexperience. She looked up to Moira, who was still staring down as her in fascination. Her breath came in short gasps, but as she mentioned before, she was very quiet. Angela paid careful attention to her reactions.

Moira was sensitive. The lightest flick of the tongue made her knees shake. Angela wondered if when Moira orgasmed she’d crumble to the ground. Again, she was encouraged, and drew her tongue slowly along the hood of Moira’s clitoris. She had tried direct stimulation only to earn a scowl and unpleasant curse from Moira. 

Moira’s sensitivity only made Angela’s task harder. A touch that seemed gentle to her would receive Moira’s disapproval and happened often enough that Angela nearly did become discouraged. But instead of quitting, she became flippant, mocking Moira (unbeknownst to her) by barely touching her at all.

Moira deemed that perfect. Angela forgot to laugh at the irony, enthralled by the deep, sharp breaths Moira was taking.

She continued what she was doing, aware that she herself hated it when a partner was sporadic with their caresses. She closed her eyes, lapping up the wetness deposited on her tongue like a kitten tasting cream. The taste of Moira, the smell of her, surprised Angela, who had assumed that the task would be unpleasant and grueling. It was the opposite of those two things. It was pleasure, discovery, and true to Moira’s earlier comment, Angela did find a new appreciation for what Fareeha had done for her for all those years.

Angela peered at Moira from behind the fringe of her lashes, at the quiet, blissful expression on her face and to the handsomeness of her sex, dripping like ripe fruit. It occured to Angela that while she had seen Fareeha naked, she had never truly seen her. Angela tried to conjure an image similar to the one she had now for comparison but could find none that could contend with the present moment.

The sight of Moira, going ramrod and swallowing a noise would stay with her. She was certain of that. 

“I-- I came. You can stop now.”

When Angela didn’t stop, Moira whined sharply and broke away, panting. Suddenly disheveled Moira was someone that she was unfamiliar with.

That was a Moira that she wanted to know better, and knew she would given time.

X

 **Bonus:** Oscar the rabbit’s nose twitched. There were a lot of thumping noises coming from the other side of the wall.

Oscar the rabbit hopped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with it established that they've negotiated play, this implies that future play/scenes have already been discussed between them. 
> 
> The name Oscar was inspired by CyborgShepard's fic "On Losing a Reputation". Go read it if you haven't already!
> 
> As much as I'd like to update every week I can't at the moment. But I can tell you that the next update will be May 2nd.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains. . . where do I even start? Strap-on sex, Oral with a strap-on, masturbating while wearing a strap-on, restraints, fingering, teasing, lots and lots of teasing, student/teacher roleplay, using a safe word in the middle of a scene, someone has a panic attack, and aftercare.

They met infrequently in private, and so the course of their relationship was slow moving. Moira liked this pace. Angela did not but she had her finals to distract her from how she wanted things. 

She asked for fewer hours at the shop, a request that surprised Moira. Angela assured her that her adoptive father Jack was sending her money to buffer through the month before finals week. After that another expression dawned on Moira. Angela couldn't quite place it until it was confirmed with a smile that was morose and didn’t reach her eyes. 

“We will miss you until then.”

Angela swallowed. “About that...”

She explained that over the summer she was visiting her adoptive father and her friends in Switzerland. To her surprise, Moira took that in stride too and said that she might visit since she had plans to visit family overseas too.

“Isn’t Switzerland out of the way of Ireland?” Angela said critically, only because she disbelieved her.

“Should I not go out of my way to see you?” 

Angela could neither argue or confirm. Their relationship was still new and they were both still susceptible to bouts of shyness. She cleared her throat and turned her attention to a display that didn’t need to be fixed. Most of the time, Moira was careful, but in the rare moments that she let loose a thread of restraint, she disoriented Angela, who was having greater difficulty keeping their secret.

They were alone in the store when Moira had said this, and yet Angela kept her eye trained on the door, on the customers browsing the buttplug section, prepared for Genji or a colleague of Moira’s to come across them being affectionate in public, even though that affection was subtle and coded, a quick glance, a warm greeting, or like their recent exchange.

“Who will mind the store if both of us are gone?” Angela asked to change the subject.

“I’ve interviewed a few individuals the other day while you were gone. All college students looking for temporary employment during the summer.”

Angela had hoped to meet the new employees but her studies kept her from introducing herself. When she wasn’t at school, she was in the library. She rarely lingered in her apartment, coming home only to sleep. Her few waking recreational hours she spent at Moira’s.

Mostly, the visits involved dinner followed by Angela studying on the couch as Moira read a book close by. Sexual intimacy was still rare and when presented it was more of Moira training her to give pleasure. 

The toys Moira had made, the floggers and paddles, still remained in their closed box under the bed. Angela found herself always studying, if not medicine, then Moira’s body and wants. 

She was a fast learner. She had only failed once when Moira asked her to wear a strap-on. Angela had felt ridiculous and hindered by the extra appendage and would either fall into a fit of laughter or a blushing mess. She expressed that she’d rather Moira wear the strap-on. Moira hummed at that suggestion, but teased her still, stating that she wouldn’t consider it until Angela had learned how to use it herself.

Moira suggested that she wear it on her own time to become accustomed to it. On one of the few nights she was at her apartment before bed (only because Moira had to take care of something for her mother), Angela put it on with an edge of humor and cracked open a heavy medical text.

As she read, her hands wandered, not amorously in the beginning-- she was fidgeting, playing with the appendage no differently than she would a pen. And then her hand traveled more, under the harness. She rubbed herself absentmindedly, still reading, parsing the words as she made lazy circles around her clitoris. She did this until the book fell out of grasp and she leaned back in her chair to afford herself more room. Then she spread her legs and closed her tired eyes. 

Again, without thinking about it, her free hand wrapped around the base of the silicone phallus. When she realized it, she stopped. Even alone it was embarrassing, but before the embarrassment had set in, it had felt good so she tentatively continued. 

The toy was double-ended. The end she was penetrated with was egg-shaped, made for the recipient to clench around. She shuddered, clamping down as she simultaneously brushed her fingers up her clit in frantic motion and pumped into her loosely formed fist. When the edges of her orgasm blurred within reach, she chased it, no longer ashamed of what she was wearing.

But wearing the strap-on alone and wearing it in front of Moira were completely different situations. Alone, she had grown confident masturbating this way. With Moira, her knees still knocked and she squirmed, standing.

Moira watched and waited, long legs spread, reclined against the strong oak headboard.

There were plenty of things to worry about-- her finals for example-- but in that moment the only thing that mattered was what Moira thought of her. She was sure she was as red as the dildo she was awkwardly sporting.

“Why should I be the one wearing this? Shouldn’t you be the one--”

“I asked you to fuck me, not for your excuses.”

Angela faced the floor; it was kinder. “I’m bad at this.”

“Then this should be the perfect opportunity to refine your technique and learn how to steady your nerves.”

The same conversation as the last few times, except that yes, Angela was bolder now. Eyes still tracing the floor she stepped forward and met Moira on the bed. She kissed her, eyes closed, ruminating.

She imagined that she was at home, reading her book, and touched herself while she positioned the dildo. Moira helped her.

It was difficult to know for sure if it had met its mark. She depended on Moira’s reactions and was glad to hear a sharp exhale.

Moira kissed her and urged her on.

Angela listened and moved. Her movements were slow, unsure. She opened her eyes cautiously and was met with Moira staring directly at her.

“Go on,” she breathed, since Angela had stopped.

She resumed and moved until Moira told her to stop.

“How was it this time?” Angela asked, covering her lap after she withdrew.

“Much better.” Moira’s reply was disappointingly gruff and businesslike. The words that followed were sweeter. “Would you like me to fuck you? You’ve earned it.”

Angela eagerly rolled over and shimmied out of the harness, a wide smile on her lips. She passed it over to Moira who set it and the attached dildo away. Instead, she kissed her deeply, lingering.

Distantly, Angela heard rustling, but assumed that was Moira undoing the rest of the buttons to her dress shirt and the tie that was still looped lazily around the crumbled shirt collar. However, when a cuff wrapped around Angela’s wrist and another one followed, she knew that hadn’t been the case. She opened her eyes, perplexed and thrumming with excitement. Before she asked, Moira answered her:

“Under the bed restraints.”

“So prepared,” Angela cooed, and didn’t resist, watching Moira give the same treatment to her ankles too.

And then Moira kissed her again and again. Kisses, caresses and yet Moira had yet to put on the harness. Moira must have sensed her impatience, squirming underneath her, but if she did she ignored it gracefully.

So Angela voiced her desires in case Moira needed a reminder.

“Maybe I like you like this,” she answered.

“Like what?”

“Pining.”

Moira’s fingers ran an upwards line over Angela’s slit. A single bead of moisture caught on her index finger.

“You’re cruel,” Angela huffed.

“Isn’t that why you’re here, angel? I thought you liked my cruelty.”

“A little mercy would be nice.”

Moira hummed, grazing her sex again with a sliver of anticipation. Angela bucked her hips upwards, but in the restraints could follow Moira’s hand only so far...

“Mercy is for the weak,” Moira said, and then she got off the bed to put on the harness. She changed the dildo for one that was girthier, with ridges at the base that played on Angela’s imagination. “I want you aching,” Moira continued, running the head of the phallus in circles around Angela’s entrance. 

“I can’t beg much more than this.” Angela twisted, trying to slip it in, but Moira was careful and drew back, chiding her for her useless attempt.

“I ‘beg’ to differ.” Moira laughed at her own pun, and then, serious again, she drew herself closer to Angela’s face, directing the tip of the dildo there. The little bit of wetness on it smeared against Angela’s cheek.

There was some nudging until Angela accepted the phallus in her mouth. She only resisted because that wasn’t where she wanted to be filled, but Moira had other plans, and in spite of her grouchiness and her annoyance, she was deeply curious where Moira would take her.

She observed Moira perched over her face, how she wielded the strap-on with perfect confidence. Moira had been just as cool and self-assured when Angela had penetrated her. That shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. She wasn’t sure why that was until now, with their positions reversed but the power dynamic still firmly in place. 

Angela realized that her insecurity with the strap-on was that she felt like she had to be dominant. In her own way, Moira had quietly shown her that wasn’t the case, that the power dynamic between dominant and submissive was deeper than who was getting fucked and who was doing the fucking. It wasn’t the sex acts or their positions that heralded their roles. It was what they were feeling at the moment and how they played off each other. 

Moira ordering Angela to fuck her was no different than Moira ordering her to close her eyes and take the entire length of her cock in her mouth. Both acts pleased Moira. Both acts made Angela shiver in deference. 

She moaned, her mouth and throat straining to take it all in. Just when she thought she couldn’t hold her breath anymore, Moira pulled out and cupped her cheek. Looking down on her, she said, “Good girl.”

To hear the praise from Moira made it all worth it. For a moment, Angela forgot what it was she had been impatient for, until she was reminded by long fingers slipping inside her sharply.

Angela gasped, but was quickly disappointed again when Moira didn’t move her fingers. She simply held them there, deep inside her.

“Have you ever done kegels?” she asked.

“A little bit.” Only when she remembered to.

“I’d like you to squeeze my fingers,” Moira said. A simple request, or so Angela thought. She couldn’t remember the last time she had done kegels and so her grip was weak. Moira bid her to try again and ran circles around her clit. As Angela’s arousal mounted, her strength grew, until Moira deemed that acceptable and pulled out her fingers, soon replacing them with the silicone phallus.

X

Weeks passed and Angela was growing restless again. In addition she was stressed with only three days remaining before her finals. She thought about complaining, but thought that maybe Moira was waiting to reward her after her tests, or that she didn’t want to distract her from her studies. Whatever the reason, Angela hated it all the same and it didn’t matter anyway because she still masturbated every night before she went to sleep, in her own bed or in Moira’s. Moira had caught her once, only to cough into her fist and close the door politely. Angela didn’t count the instance where she woke in the middle of the night and touched herself with Moira right beside her. She wasn’t sure if Moira was really asleep then.

In many ways, Moira still confused her. It didn’t seem that Moira was disinterested in sex. It almost felt like the abstinence was to toy with her. Angela recalled her words, from the last night they had had sex: “I like you that way. I like you pining.”

“Do you masturbate?” Angela asked one evening over dinner.

Without batting an eye, Moira said yes and passed the potatoes to her.

X

The night before finals, Angela was supposed to be in her apartment studying, but she couldn’t concentrate and called Moira. She asked if she could come over. 

At first Moira said no, but when Angela burst into tears over the phone, she changed her mind. She came to pick Angela up from her apartment, but for the first time, instead she made herself at home, sitting on Angela’s bed. She patted the space next to her.

“You’re nervous,” she observed as Angela’s weight joined hers on the bed.

Angela nodded, staring at her hands, her short fingernails and the skin around them torn to shreds.

“Make me forget,” Angela whispered hoarsely, her throat dry after all the tears she'd shed over the phone. Before Moira could reply, she continued, “I’ve done enough studying to make my head explode. I need something else-”

“A stress reliever.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to fuck you.”

“So hard.”

Moira moved from the bed but not away from her. “You remember our negotiations?”

“What do you have in mind?” 

“Something cathartic.” Moira reached up and pulled the hair tie loose. Blonde unkempt hair spilled over Angela’s shoulders. 

What Moira had in mind was for Angela to be the student and herself the teacher frustrated with her grades. The roleplay would have hit too close to home if they had moved the stage away from Angela’s apartment. Moira had probably done that on purpose, Angla thought, and she was grateful.

It wasn’t difficult for Moira to fall into the role of a teacher. She was already wearing a blazer with leather elbow patches like professors wore in movies, except Moira wore it well. Moira asked Angela to meet her in tiny kitchenette once she finished changing out of her pajamas. 

Dressed in simple jeans and a shirt, Angela completed the ensemble with a large messenger bag at her hip. She found Moira at the tiny kitchen table. Despite the size of the table and the fact that one of the legs was shorter than the rest, Moira managed to make it appear like a strong mahogany desk by her poise alone, sitting behind it. 

“Please take a seat, Miss Ziegler.”

There was a single piece of paper in Moira’s hands, pulled taut. She looked at it with scrutiny and Angela shifted in her seat, lowering her gaze. She wet her lips.“Professor, I--”

“I thought I would give you the dignity to tell you to your face, before the grades were officially posted...”

Angela tried to swallow but her throat was dry. She gripped the sash of her messenger bag and willed herself to look Moira in the eye. She paused to right herself, to remind herself they were roleplaying. She knew that. It was obvious that they were in her kitchen and not a classroom. She could see her refrigerator, covered in souvenir magnets, over Moira’s shoulder.

“I think I already know,” she finally managed to say.

Moira raised a brow, setting the paper down neatly. After a moment of silence, Angela realized Moira was waiting for her to continue.

“I-- I didn’t make the cut.”

Moira neither nodded or shook her head. She asked, “Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. I did everything right. I studied the material, I never missed a class, and I took notes.” She fell silent, ruminating. Something welled up inside her. Her heart beat fast and her arms and back became ramrod and numb. She clutched her tightening chest.

“I can’t do this.” Her voice was small as she clutched her tightening chest. “ Moira...!” She gasped for air, but her breaths were shallow.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her face. Distantly, she heard the chair scrape against the floor and then Moira was beside her, holding her. The firmness of her grasp and the smell of clove cigars and vanilla was a comfort and they stayed like that for an indiscernible amount of time, remaining there even after Angela had regained her breath and a shaky composure.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Are you okay?” 

“I know it wasn’t real.”

“It wasn’t,” Moira confirmed, rubbing circles around her backside. “Don’t apologize. It was my mistake to propose this. I didn’t consider-- no-- I didn’t think. I just assumed that what would work for me would work on you.”

It took a moment for Angela to process this, her mind still fogged from the tears and shortness of breath. “You’ve bottomed?”

Moira hesitated before she answered. “Once.”

“Will you tell me about it?” Talking helped things return to normal, as did the softly blooming curiosity. 

There was another pause as Moira mulled over it, leading her out of the kitchen and onto the couch. She removed other visual reminders of their failed roleplay as well. She took off her jacket and stripped Angela of her messenger bag and jeans.

“Why are you taking off my pants?”

“Taking your pants off means you’re home.”

Angela couldn’t argue with that sound logic and helped Moira help her out of the denim. She asked for her laptop, still in the bedroom, and when Moira raised a brow at her, telling her that homework was the last thing she would allow her to do, she explained it was so they might watch a movie. 

Moira set the laptop up for her. As they browsed through the list of comedies, Moira cleared her throat. 

“It was with a close friend.”

“Excuse me?”

“When I bottomed.”

“Oh.” Angela had already given up prying, but at the promise of learning more about Moira, her eyes fell from the laptop screen. “I have trouble picturing you bottoming to anyone.” 

She tried to imagine Moira in her shoes, naked and pinned, that ever-present smugness stripped to reveal a whimpering, pleading mess. It did not fit her character, her sharpness and her poise. Moira’s arrogance seemed unbreakable, except for now, tending to Angela and realizing her mistakes. And yet, that was different from submission too. Moira’s humility was born out of her responsibility towards Angela, not out of desperation or deep-seeded need to be at one’s feet. 

Moira chuckled uncomfortably. “As do I. I only did it because I was beginning to crack under pressure. I thought if I was put into a position where I lost control under the care of a friend that I would be able to weather losing control in my personal life.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. It was visceral, cathartic. I was able to explore a part of myself I was afraid to show.”

Angela slumped against the couch. She wondered if she had just waited a little longer, had braved the initial pangs of anxiety, that she would have experience a similar release as Moira had in the past. “I can see why you thought it would help. I wish I hadn’t stopped you.”

“I’m glad you did. Your capacity to say no makes me trust your ‘yes' more.”

Moira’s voice and the hands clasping hers were sincere, but Angela was uncertain. But, like thoughts about her upcoming finals, she buried those worries, spending the remainder of the evening in Moira’s lap as they scathingly ripped apart a cheesy romantic comedy followed by a nature documentary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be May 16th!
> 
> I wrote a one-shot based on Moira's experience bottoming for Gabe (it's platonic bdsm) here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493399


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, Angela woke up to the smell of eggs and French toast and the ding of the coffee maker. She awakened suddenly and jolted again, seeing Moira in the kitchen wearing an apron that was too small on her.

She had forgotten that Moira had come over last night and that they’d both fallen asleep on the couch. In the corner of her eye, her laptop was still on, showing a message from Netflix asking if they were still watching. She closed the app and her laptop, stretched, and then joined Moira in the kitchen, dotting a kiss on her arm.

Moira said ‘good morning’ to her in Gaelic and turned to kiss her briefly on the neck. There were two steaming plates next to the stove. Moira asked what time her first test would be and looked relieved at the answer, since they had more than enough time to enjoy the breakfast together. 

Over breakfast, Moira asked Angela how she felt, concern in her voice. Angela could only answer honestly, “I feel like every other college student about to take a final that could make or break their G.P.A. But... I have you and that makes it a lot better.”

“Will you text me after you’ve finished for today?”

“I will.”

While Moira washed the dishes (and cleaned other parts of the kitchen that had taken her notice), Angela remained at the kitchen table to do some last minute studying. Moira’s phone on the table chimed a few times, but went ignored until Angela gave the distraction to her. She saw Moira’s lip twitch, reading the text before she set it aside.

“Who was it?”

“Work.”

“You don’t have to stick around, Liebling. I’m fine now.”

Moira remained at her side and no more texts came, even for the duration of the car ride to the university campus. Along the way they stopped at a coffee shop and Moira emphasized that Angela could order anything she wanted, but was unsurprised that she ordered her usual, which was cheaper than the other drinks on the menu.

“I appreciate everything you did last night,” Angela said, hoping that would assuage her girlfriend’s guilt. “Thank you.”

“Don’t forget to text me.”

“Of course.”

X

There was little break between her first two finals that morning, only enough to make it from one end of the campus to the other and study for fifteen more minutes. The teacher let her in the classroom early, along with the one other student who had the foresight for a head start. A few others trickled in but many ran inside at the last minute and one banged on the door after the teacher had already closed it.

The Anatomy and Physiology test was easier than she expected, but no less a challenge. She second-guessed her answers, erasing, rewriting, and erasing again. She was glad that some of the teachers gave the students a blank piece of paper to copy their answers to, so that they could check them at home after class. Angela made careful note of hers, but was also watchful of the clock.

She was released an hour and forty five minutes later, with plenty of time before the next test. She opened her phone to a message Genji had sent her, wishing her luck, and two more in similar vein from her adoptive father and from Fareeha. 

She texted Moira with a brief update and saw Lena’s name in her text messages list, from the group chat that was made months ago, back when they had negotiated a scene with Emily and Amélie.

 **Angela 12:56PM**  
Hey

 **Lena 12:56PM**  
How’s it going, Love?

 **Angela 12:57PM**  
Good. Finals.

 **Angela 12:57PM**  
Have you ever used a safe word during a scene with Amélie?

 **Lena 12:57PM**  
Not with Amélie, but I have with Em.

 **Lena 12:58PM**  
Are you all right?

 **Angela 12:58PM**  
I feel guilty.

 **Lena 12:58PM**  
You shouldn’t be, Ange. Though I’m one to talk-- I understand what you’re going through right now.

 **Angela 12:59PM**  
Are you free right now?

 **Lena 1PM**  
For a cuppa?

 **Angela 1PM**  
Lunch? I’m starving.

 **Lena 1PM**  
Sure! Where?

Angela gave the address to a nearby cafe within walking distance from the campus. The phone chimed with another text that she presumed was from Lena, but it was from Moira instead.

 **Moira 1:02PM**  
Would you like me to treat you to lunch?

 **Angela 1:03PM**  
Sorry, I already made plans.

 **Moira 1:04PM**  
Dinner then?

 **Angela 1:04PM**  
Maybe.

She reconsidered her curt response.

 **Angela 1:05PM**  
Please don’t take it the wrong way, I just want to study tonight.

No reply, or Moira was satisfied ending it there. Angela was uncertain, staring at her phone, waiting for a response, but when none came, she made her way to the cafe to meet Lena. And although the cafe was farther from Lena than it was Angela, she still made it there before her, waving frantically from the table she had claimed.

“How did you get here so fast?”

“I jogged,” Lena said, matter of factly.

“That’s… never mind.” Angela shook her head and gave her drink order to the server. 

Before the server was out of earshot, Lena brought up their brief text conversation. She asked when the incident occurred.

“Yesterday.”

“Oh, no wonder. And in the middle of finals too!”

Angela nodded, playing with her napkin idly. “I know you said I shouldn’t be, but i still feel guilty. What if M-- they never want to play with me again? Or anyone for that matter.”

“That’s nonsense, Ange. 'Sides, anyone who’d feel that way is dodgy. And if that’s the case you still have me and Em and Amélie.”

“That’s another thing-- I know all that, but I still can’t help but feel at fault.”

Lena tilted her head, considering. “What if she-- er, he?” She paused, searching Angela’s face for confirmation, but receiving none settled on ‘they.’ “What if they hadn’t listened though?”

“I didn’t think about that.” But Moira had listened ever since the incident. She had been doing nothing but comfort Angela, worried that she had gone too far.

“I don’t think I could top,” Angela decided, suddenly aware of the level of responsibility.

“Me neither,” Lena agreed, but her reasons were different from Angela’s. She said she had the attention span of a squirrel and bottoming was the only way she could ‘slow down.’ Then she quickly changed the subject, without the tact to wait for the server to leave after serving their sandwiches. “Who is it?”

“Who?” Angela asked, feigning ignorance but Lena saw through her, narrowing her eyes and scrunching her button nose. 

“You know, your little playmate. Is it a casual thing?”

It was difficult to lie. “It’s getting serious.”

“Someone I know?” Lena was halfway across the table, elbow deep in her sandwich.

“Lena, your food...”

She glanced down, then back to Angela. “So who is it?”

“I can’t tell you,” Angela quickly replied. She wondered if things had been different, if her mind wasn’t fried by studying and finals and anxiety, if she’d have been able to avoid the subject entirely. As soon as she said it like that, Lena’s eyes only grew bigger.

“A forbidden romance, isn’t it?”

Angela started to eat in case Lena continued her interrogation, but seeing her eat, Lena suddenly remembered her own food and they ate in brief silence. Lena continued to talk and Angela only listened, nodding and chewing and hoping the subject of her love life wouldn’t reemerge.

They hugged before saying goodbye and Angela felt triumphant until Lena reached behind her and pulled away a short red hair from her shirt.

X

It was unlikely that Lena could guess it was Moira by one lone red hair. The fact that Lena didn’t know meant that Amélie hadn’t told her what she had so easily perceived. If Lena came close to figuring it out, perhaps Amélie would steer her in the other direction until the moment was right and the relationship could be out in the open.

Lena had been right to call it a ‘forbidden romance.’ It would be years until she and Moira could be public. Angela frowned, that would be years of lying to Genji and of Fareeha assuming that she had nothing but her schoolwork. 

She had too much time to linger on this. She studied until she grew restless and leaned back in the computer chair at the library, staring at the ceiling. In the cubicle next to her, a student was lightly snoring. 

**Angela 3:01 PM**  
Are you busy?

 **Moira 3:03PM**  
Not at the moment.

 **Moira 3:04PM**  
How are you feeling?

 **Angela 3:05PM**  
Can I call you?

 **Moira 3:05PM**  
Of course.

Angela had already packed her things. She exited the library and called Moira as she walked to class. 

“Hello?” Moira’s voice was oddly soft over the phone but the precise inflection of her words remained recognizable. 

“Hey...” Angela trailed off. She had a reason for calling her, but after hearing Moira’s voice on the line, she paused, distracted.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Moira apologized again, unprovoked. 

“It’s ok-- I mean… that’s what I wanted to talk about. I’d rather we talk about it in person but it’s the middle of finals week and I don’t think I can handle more than a phone conversation at the moment.”

“I understand.”

“I still want to continue what we’re doing,” Angela said as a preface, and then explained that any play involving her academic life was off limits.

“Is there anything I can do to help if a similar reaction occurs?”

“Watching movies together on the couch helped.” She reflected on this, her thumb carressing the side of her phone. “And maybe if you… um, told me nice things.”

“Such as?” The way Moira’s words curled, the few moments her Irish accent came out, made Angela stop in her tracks.

The colour suddenly returned to her face, which had had a gray pallor for days. “Tell me I’m a ‘good girl’ maybe? I don’t know.” She laughed nervously. “Never mind, it’s dumb.”

“Never put down your desires. I want to hear it.”

Winded, but not from her walk, she found a bench to carry on the rest of their conversation. She told Moira in vivid detail, in a whisper through the mouthpiece, the things she wanted, self-conscious of the students passing back and forth on campus. She got so caught up in this that she almost didn’t register the bell ringing, and she was almost late to her last final of the day. When she walked out an hour later, she was confident that she did well and would continue to do so. She almost considered changing her mind and inviting Moira over, but decided against it, clutching her books to her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you again May 30th! Or sooner! We'll see how things are since I'll have more time to write.


	12. Chapter 12

Nothing was set in stone but initially Angela planned to celebrate the last day of finals with Moira, until Ana called her the night before to invite her to Fareeha’s going away party. She apologized that it was last minute; it had been difficult to set a date since Fareeha was busy with school and preparing to ship out to bootcamp. 

The party was an intimate gathering, with only Fareeha’s closest friends, her family, and Satya. For the first half hour Satya was at Fareeha’s side, until more guests filled the house and she retreated upstairs.

The Swiss Cheesecake that Angela made for Fareeha was a rushed job, but was enjoyed all the same. She considered taking a piece up for Satya, but Fareeha shook her head and told her it was best she let her have space.

Angela understood Satya’s reasons, but wished she was there with them. Without her presence, some of Fareeha’s guests had forgotten that they were no longer dating. 

“I’m so sorry,” Fareeha whispered under her breath.

Eventually, Angela ignored Fareeha’s advice and went upstairs, exhausted by the aunts and uncles who wouldn’t stop asking when she and Fareeha would get married. She leaned against the wall in the hallway and sighed, sliding down to the carpet. She wondered if it would be better for her to leave, and then she saw Satya, through a sliver of an open door, sitting with perfect posture on Fareeha’s bed, reading a book. In her lap was Ana’s cat, its good eye open.

“Can I help you?” Satya asked, quickly aware of her presence.

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No.” And then, five minutes later, she said, “Come in.”

Angela accepted the invitation, but self-conscious of encroaching on Satya’s space, she took a seat on the beanbag chair in the corner of the room. It crinkled as she moved and Satya’s head shot up at the noise, a look of disgust on her face.

“Could you...” She paused, as if realizing the sneer on her face and the disdain in her voice. She instead patted the space on the bed next to her. “Sit here instead.”

The precise way she spoke, it hadn’t occurred to Angela until she sat next to her that the invitation sounded more like an order than a gesture of goodwill. Perhaps it was both, but the former stood out and Angela was awed.

She hadn’t noticed how vibrant Satya was the first time they met, and she suspected this was due to the fact that Satya did not like crowds. Even more than two people in her company was almost too much for her, she professed. 

One on one, Satya was much more relaxed and Angela caught her smiling more often. Very quickly, Angela saw what had charmed Fareeha, and she shifted on the bed. Usually she wasn’t self-conscious of her attraction to others (the only other exception had been Moira), but Satya was Fareeha’s girlfriend and they were also lying on her bed. Slowly, Angela felt she had left one awkward situation to walk into another.

“What are you reading?” she asked, hoping to quiet her anxious mind.

Satya gave a muted grin and tilted the book for Angela to see. 

_‘Gabriella ripped open her blouse, her full breasts spilling out like two heaping globes to be trod on...’_

She chuckled, taking amusement in Angela’s bewildered expression.

“It’s not mine,” she said,showing the cover. It was an old 25-cent lesbian pulp fiction novel. Wwo women were pictured on the front cover in riding gear, one of them mounting a horse. “I found this in Ms. Amari’s library.”

Angela wasn’t sure if she had wanted to know that much, but what she had glimpsed had been entertaining, if poorly written. So she accepted Satya’s invitation to read along with her. Often, she found that Satya was watching her more than reading herself, taking in the myriad of expressions Angela made as she read.

Angela had almost forgotten that spontaneous attraction to her friend’s girlfriend until Satya offered her a massage.

“The area around your shoulders looks tense.”

“That’s because it is.” She had been bearing through it for the past few days.

“May I?” Satya gestured.

“Are you sure?”

“You can read to me.”

Sheepishly, she drew back the blonde hair covering the nape of her neck. She was glad that Satya wanted her to read, even though she struggled to concentrate. But even that concentration was short-lived when Satya’s hands found a spot that left Angela speechless, that she didn’t know needed tending to until that very moment. 

And without meaning to, or perhaps not realizing it until it was too late, she fell into Satya’s lap.

“Do you want me to continue?” Satya asked. Her voice was rich, persuasive.

Angela groaned encouragement, forgetting her words. The room blurred out of focus and she closed her eyes. Distantly, she heard footsteps cross the stairs, but she didn’t have the energy to look to see who it was. It felt like seconds since the steps had passed, but when Satya finished, gently patting her on the back, she was informed that she had been sprawled in her lap for twenty minutes.

Angela wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth, flush with embarrassment. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Satya shrugged, a move somehow elegant. “I simply wanted to put something back in its place.” 

She said that it had irritated her to see the tension in Angela’s shoulders.

X

Immediately after the party, Angela went to Moira’s. She took the bus and Moira picked her up from the bus stop. It was late and Angela asked uncertainty if it really was okay that she had come over. Moira simply hugged her.

They were both exhausted for their separate reasons, but couldn’t sleep and listened to a science podcast near the fireplace. Oscar was fast asleep in Angela’s arms and Moira was settled on the floor in front of her, washing her feet in an epsom salt bath laced with lavender. After Angela had told her about the massage Satya had given her, Moira narrowed her eyes, stating that she had planned to pamper her after finals. 

Angela told her it wasn’t too late. 

Moira looked gentlemanly and sweet, tending to her feet, gently drying them with a fluffy towel. Angela watched her lean to kiss her on the ankle as if she were kissing her on the hand.   
Moira’s breath was warm and quickly Angela considered what it would feel like if Moira’s kisses went up her legs and her breath warmed her burning sex. As much as Angela had given Moira oral, Moira had yet to return the favor, another one of her machinations, something to work towards.

But it was the end of finals and Moira was determined to pamper her already. Angela felt brave enough to ask for this. 

“Please...” she said, spreading her legs. 

Moira raised her eyes to meet her gaze briefly and then stood up. It took Angela a moment to register why her arms were outstretched towards her, until long fingers settled on top of Oscar’s head, toying with one floppy ear. 

“Do you still want to hold the rabbit or do you want me to continue to spoil you?” Moira pried. Her smile was smug. Already she knew Angela’s reply. 

Silently, Angela passed Oscar to Moira. The smile deepened with satisfaction, and for a brief moment Moira left to return Oscar to his room. When she returned, Angela was undressed, her arms looped around her upraised legs. She knew what she was doing, imagining Moira's view -- a flash of pink, of the beautiful folds of her inner labia until she lowered her legs to briefly mask the sight. She winked, bold and flirtatious.

Moira shook her head and chuckled, crossing closer to her. She resumed her spot, kneeling on the floor in front of her. She waited expectantly for Angela to uncross her legs. Angela waited for her to grow impatient, but Moira wouldn’t crack. Angela grew restless first and uncrossed her legs. Her breath caught, feeling Moira’s breath ghost over her mons. 

“You smell exquisite.”

Angela eased back on the couch as Moira’s mouth pressed against her, kisses long and languid, teasing and soft all over. When she briefly pulled away, her mouth was drenched in the luster of Angela’s excitement. 

As with everything Moira did, her ministrations were calculated. She knew Angela’s body perfectly. She had watched her masturbate countless times in the few weeks they had started dating. She was naturally intuitive and responsive to Angela’s reactions. She was also relentless, holding her to the spot when she became overstimulated and started to kick the air and beat at Moira's back. And just when Angela was sure she couldn’t take anymore, or that she was about to come, Moira pulled back.

Again she edged Angela closer to the desired precipice, only to stop, then resume once they both caught their breath. Soon, the flicker of Moira’s tongue was almost enough and she stopped as soon as she started again.

“I want to come,” Angela begged. “Please.” She assumed that if she said this, Moira would release her from this torture, but Moira only hummed and gently tapped her clit with her forefinger, watching her gasp and suffer.

“How often do you masturbate?” she asked idly. She brought the tips of her fingers to Angela’s entrance and watched the moisture slowly pool down to the palm of her hand. 

“Wha--?” The question had come out of nowhere.

“I said, how often do you masturbate? Answer me.”

Angela looked away, face fuming with lust and agitation. “You know how much.”

“Do I?”

“You’ve caught me, haven’t you?”

“I have an idea, but I want to know if I’m right.”

“Fine. Twice a day-- at least once a day.”

“And more than that while you’re gone over the summer. Without me around,” Moira mused.

“I’ll miss you,” Angela agreed. Her voice was small, wondering and afraid of where Moira was going with this.

“Will you touch yourself thinking of me?”

“Of course.” She watched Moira with anticipation as Moira dotted a chaste kiss on her pale inner thigh.

“And you won’t come until we’ve reunited?”

There Angela’s voice caught in her throat, truly unsure if she could last, afraid to make promises she couldn’t keep. Moira saw her hesitance. She said, “I believe you can do it.”

“You’re coming to visit me, right?” Angela asked, recalling Moira’s offhand comment from a few weeks ago. She had mentioned coming to Switzerland after visiting relatives in Ireland.

“If you’ll have me.”

“I will.” Of course she would, with or without the stipulation Moira was proposing, but with it on the table, the upcoming visit became urgent. Already, Angela was growing antsy, denied release. She could hardly imagine holding back days, weeks, months...

But she wanted to try, to please Moira, to prove she could restrain her wild nature.

“Will you wait for me?” Moira asked, another kiss, this time on her sex. The kiss lingered but did nothing to give Angela what she wanted. 

“Yes, I will try.”

“You will.”

“Yes, I will,” Angela corrected herself, and then, pushing her luck, asked if Moira would let her come tonight. “After tonight, I’ll restrain myself.”

“You’ll start tonight,” Moira coolly replied, moving to her feet. She wiped her mouth and fingers clean with a paisley kerchief.

Angela, begrudging, wistful, and full of want, followed Moira into the bedroom and they dressed for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you again June 13th!


	13. Chapter 13

Three days after the end of finals, Angela returned to Zürich. Jack had kept her room the same as when she left it. Even the dust was untouched, but that could be said for the rest of the house. Her adoptive father didn’t like to clean and the maid he hired would do every chore but the dusting.

So the first night home she spent with all the windows of her room open as she dusted, and the next day she dusted the rest of the house. The next two weeks she was occupied by visiting friends and family. Every evening someone was over or she was invited to someone’s house for dinner. 

It wasn’t until those two weeks had passed and she had seen everyone that the loneliness started to set in. She had thought of Moira before then, but now that there weren't any chores or people due for a visit, unable to sleep and alone in her bed, she quickly realized the distance.

Moira was nearly always available to her; they texted often and had set up times to call. No hour was obscenely late for them. They were both almost always awake. 

They talked often but the sound of Moira’s voice, disembodied and far away, sometimes made it harder. And the richness of her voice in the phone held tight to Angela’s ear made it near impossible for her not to touch herself. 

Moira encouraged this, whispering obscenities in her ear that made her stir fitfully under the covers, sleeping or waking. 

Once, Angela was sorely disappointed to wake from a dream. She had dreamed that she was a mermaid with a split tail. At the center was her sex, bright red and frilly, so unlike herself. An octopus lurking in a cave snagged her as she swam past and she was subject to all its tendrils, a husky voice echoing as she squirmed that was deeply familiar. She had almost come, but resisted for reasons she couldn’t place in the dream, that she regretted later upon waking. If she came in her sleep, Moira could not blame her.

To avoid temptation she found things to do: errands to run for Jack, trips to the library, trips to the square, walking, anything that wasn’t confined to the house or the privacy of her bedroom.

Showers were dangerous for obvious reasons. Jack remarked that he was glad to have some hot water when she finished. In the past she had taken longer to bathe, and he had grown accustomed to cold showers before she left for college.

Sometimes her showers were cold when she was feeling particularly hopeless.

X

Genji texted her sporadically, mostly to tell her his progress with Zenyatta. But since she and Moira started dating, Angela didn’t speak to him as much as she used to, and she felt bad when a package from the States arrived on her doorstep from Genji, full of the snacks she missed. Attached was a letter that she read quickly, but responded to slowly, parsing each sentence carefully to make sure it wasn't obvious that she was having a secret affair with their boss.

Fareeha was still in bootcamp and didn’t send a letter until much later in the summer. It detailed a typical day for training, some inside jokes, and a picture of her in uniform. Angela wrote back and said she looked handsome. She wrote about her own summer, her volunteer work at the hospital and the retirement home, and how Jack accidentally made a bonfire out of the barbeque grill. Aside from that and the game she and Moira were playing, her summer was relatively calm and uneventful.

Things didn’t pick up until a camping trip with her childhood friends. They went out for four days with no phone reception and no privacy. Angela was relieved to be among her friends to stave off the loneliness and curb the dirty thoughts that occupied her mind. They played drinking games which Angela participated in carefully, afraid to overshare in a drunken stupor.

She didn’t immediately contact Moira when she returned from the camping trip, exhausted from kayaking, swimming, and her friend’s constant questions about what the United States was like. She went to bed still wearing her carry-on bag, her clothes clinging wet with sweat. She woke up to a text from Moira, sent an hour earlier, asking when would be a good time to call, if now would be. 

She texted back, hoping that their window of contact hadn’t passed. 

Moira called her not a moment later. She had good news: she would be visiting soon. Angela said she couldn’t wait, that she missed her, and further, “I feel like an animal. You’re all I think about.”

“That’s the point, pet,” Moira replied, her voice like silk.

Angela shivered.

X

Moira’s plane descended early in the following week. Angela woke up three hours before Moira would arrive, eyes on the ceiling, trying to will herself back to sleep. But sleep never came again, so she rolled out of bed and took a quick shower. She apologized to Jack for waking him with said shower. He said he had to be up anyway, and asked what was the occasion for her early morning.

Angela smiled mutely, trying to hide her excitement. “Just a friend.”

His eyes crinkled, probably thinking she was on her way to meet a boy. She had in the past, but she had never had the same enthusiasm skulking away with them as she did this morning, knowing Moira was on the same continent as her again. 

She made them both breakfast (partially to apologize for waking her guardian) and checked her phone as she ate. There was one message from Genji, with a picture attached of him with his arm looped around Zenyatta, both smiling and making peace signs. Moira had yet to text her-- it was too early anyway.

“Do I know this friend?” Jack asked, clearing the table.

Angela quickly stowed her phone away. “I met them in the States,” she answered, purposely vague.

“You should invite them over. I’d like to meet them.”

“Only if you’re cooking.” 

Angela smirked to mask her dread. But then, Jack did not know that Moira was her boss. Maybe he wouldn’t like that Moira was significantly older than her, but being a woman, he might easily warm up to her. For a moment she considered it, but left it there for now. She would ask Moira later.

X

 **Moira 8:30 AM**  
I’m here.

The text was sent minutes after her flight had landed. Angela jumped out of her seat in the waiting area near the luggage pickup.

 **Angela 8:31AM**  
I’m here too. I’m glad you made it safely.

She told her where she was waiting, gripping the strap of her purse in one hand and her phone in the other.

There was a soft crowd of people who had been on the same plane, mostly businessmen, a few families. Angela searched each person’s face and silhouette until a tall figure came into view and recognition slowly, startlingly clicked into place. 

Moira’s pace quickened when she saw her, but she retained a thread of self control.

When they finally met in the middle, Angela was the first to hug her. Moira reacted slowly, conscious that they were in public, even though they had discussed this already.

“No one knows you here but me,” Angela reminded her and with some effort, Moira squeezed back. 

“Old habits are hard to kill,” Moira said. 

“You’re not backing out now, are you?” Angela raised a brow. “You said you’d take me out on a real date.”

Moira tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind Angela’s ear, gazing at her fondly and openly. “It is impolite to take back a promise.”

Angela found Moira’s arm and wrapped her own around it. “And I’m old enough to drink here.”

“Are you suggesting I buy you a drink?”

“Two.” Angela held up two fingers. “Don’t be stingy with me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Funny, considering what you’ve put me through.”

“And what have I put you through?”

Angela felt flush and turned away to the cool linoleum floor. “You know.”

“Perhaps it’s something we can discuss over drinks,” Moira suggested, and claimed her suitcase.

X

They did not discuss it over drinks. It was too early and they wound up talking about the newest episode of their favorite science podcast. Then when the conversation paused, Angela asked how Oscar was doing and who was taking care of him while Moira was gone.

“One of the summer hires offered to take care of him. McCree also offered, but I didn’t want to come back home to a funeral.”

“He’s more reliable than he lets on.”

“He is,” Moira agreed. “But I’m not about to test the limits of his dependability.”

They stopped for breakfast on the way to Moira’s hotel at a little corner cafe that had coffee that was irritably weak. Moira’s tone was more bitter than the coffee when she remarked that she regretted buying it. However, Moira's mood shifted when she kissed Angela on the lips at the threshold of her hotel room. 

The kiss slowly mounted. In the weeks since they had seen each other, Angela felt like she had forgotten how to kiss, or that she was re-adjusting to being close to Moira again, or that she was savoring it, so that later when they parted again she would still remember the taste of her.

And then, suddenly they were voraciously, viscerally at each other’s throats, ears, mouths. After tussling back and forth on top of the covers, Moira finally pinned her down, triumphant and haughty, with all her weight on Angela. Angela twisted in her grip and gasped, satisfied. For the first time since they had started dating, Moira was being physically forceful, a mirror to the innate control she had over the rest of her body.

“I love it.”

“Hmm?”

“When you’re rough with me.”

“I don’t usually like to use force,” Moira said delicately. “But it has its place. You’ve stopped wriggling.”

“Mmm.” Angela hummed appreciatively. Moira had her pinned, not to keep her from escaping, but to keep her from advancing. If Moira allowed it, if Angela had her way, she would be frotting against her thigh. 

“You really are a beast.”

“I’m your pet.” 

Moira laughed, planting a kiss on her dimple. “Scoundrel.”

For all her chastising, Moira’s patience thinned too. Angela’s pants were on the floor, Moira’s doing. Also Moira’s hand soon flushed down the front of her yellow panties. Angela gasped, surprised that Moira’s fingers thrusted inside without any teasing beforehand or begging on her part. 

“Moir--”

“You’re wet.”

“Yes,” Angela agreed, breathily, because Moira’s fingers were crooked inside her, finding her G-spot with ease.

“And very sensitive. Have you touched yourself at all this summer?”

“No...!” Angela rasped, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“I can tell,” Moira observed. “You don’t trust yourself, do you?”

“I’ve been busy,” Angela replied lamely.

“Mmm. Is that so? Or have you merely been keeping yourself busy on purpose?”

Angela had scarcely heard Moira, distracted by her fingers. “Can you repeat that?”

Moira kissed her. “It’s not important.”

In any other circumstance that would have only emboldened Angela’s curiosity, but Moira’s fingers were where she needed them, after weeks of wanting. She spread her legs and followed the path of Moira’s fingers. She cared about nothing more than that, wanted nothing more.

Sharply, Moira pulled away, watching her sag into the chaotic mess of bedsheets. Angela’s whine was sharper and probably endearing, but it was not enough to wear away Moira's resolve to withhold orgasm. 

“First,” Moira said, undressing herself, “you’ll make me come. While you’re down there, I’ll consider if you deserve the same.”

Angela narrowed her eyes, but obeyed, bowing her head over Moira’s lap, lapping up the wetness that had gathered. Moira hummed and petted the back of her head as if she were contemplating, keeping score of Angela’s progress and work ethic. “You’re awfully compliant like this. I should keep you in chastity more often.”

Angela closed her eyes, focusing on her work. She hated how right Moira was, how in spite of everything, she resisted the urge to nip at her, chained to the promise that Moira would let her come if she did a good job.

“Such a good girl when you want to be, when you want something,” Moira commented coolly, stroking her face, her hair, everywhere but her body, everywhere but her burning sex.

Angela wanted to rip apart that smirk. The only way she knew how was to burrow deeper between Moira’s thighs and suckle her clit with soft stray flicks of the tongue. In moments, Moira’s legs tightened on both sides of her head. Within minutes she came, silent as ever. Her smirk was dismantled, her gaze far away, the reverberations of her orgasm still with her, the occasional errant twitch. 

Finally, Moira said something. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you again soon (but not soon enough) on June 27th!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Zaski: Happy early birthday. : )
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for comments/kudosing and to those who have mentioned this fic as a recommendation. I compared the wordcount to my other fics and this one is the longest I've written so far. As of right now this fic is half the length of the first Harry Potter book! I wonder if I can make it the same length as or more than the book! But I promise not to drag this story out longer than necessary. 
> 
> Little bit of Jack/Gabe this chapter and some drama.

“You can’t just change the rules as you see fit,” Angela huffed, still naked and cross on the bed. Moira by comparison was composed and nearly fully dressed, in the middle of tying her tie.

“It’s not so much changing the rules as I had an idea on the flight here,” Moira said, tightening the windsor knot. Satisfied by her reflection in the mirror, she turned back to Angela. 

“You told me when you came here this morning that it is impolite to take back a promise,” Angela reminded.

“I’m not changing the rules.” Moira rejoined Angela on the bed, picking up Angela's bra as she did. “Nor am I rescinding my promise to you,” she continued evenly, and held the garment out. 

“Then what?”

A smile crinkled the sharp corners of Moira’s eyes. “I’m making you an offer.”

“So you say.” Angela narrowed her eyes, arms crossed and drumming a finger irritably in the air. She ignored the bra, leaving Moira’s hand to hang uselessly there until she finally discarded it onto the bed next to her.

“Overall, it’s up to you what you decide. As I was saying, ‘I’d like to have you wait a little while longer, until you return.' Once you have, well, I promise...” And at the look Angela threw at her she added, “Sincerely, I do.”

“What will I get out of it?” Angela asked.

“Always opportunistic... when it comes to pleasure. Angela, my selfish brat, I’ll give you a warm welcome in the company of friends, but when the lights dim and you’re all mine, no one will save you from what I have in store for you. You won’t walk afterwards: another promise.”

“You’re so certain.”

“Always.”

“If I’m selfish, then you’re arrogant.”

Moira didn’t argue that. She seemed tickled, smiling and leaning closer to Angela. Like a stereotype of a devil, she waited for her to seal the deal.

“I guess it’s not too bad,” Angela finally relented with a sigh. “Two more weeks...”

“Just think of how much you’ll get done with no distractions.” Her tone bordered on snide, enough to prompt Angela to push her off the bed. As if expecting that, she caught Angela’s hand and pulled her down with her. The kiss that followed nearly quelled Angela’s displeasure, except that it rekindled her desire, reminding her all over again what she couldn’t have.

She tried to bait Moira into touching her, but Moira didn’t even allow her to start, moving her off her lap and straightening her tie. She warned that if she didn’t get dressed soon, they would be late. “Late for what?” Angela asked. They hadn’t really made plans.

But Moira apparently had. From her jacket pocket she withdrew two tickets to a concert. Angela frowned as she re-dressed, wondering if she would be underdressed for the event, but Moira assured her that jeans would be suitable since it was an outdoor concert.

The summer sun was partially shrouded by clouds, but it didn't rain and the heat was mild, perfect weather to spend outdoors. Moira spread a blanket over the grass in the park, and they laid there, listening to the concert but watching each other. After the concert, Moira was awkward, almost hesitant to hold her hand.

“No one knows who you are here,” Angela reminded her, resisting the urge to take her hand, to make her sink or swim.

“I know.” Moira said, tentatively running her fingertips along the lifeline on Angela’s palm. “I’m afraid that if I start, I will become spoiled.” Still, she took Angela’s hand in hers as they walked the promenade.

That alone made Angela blush, deeper than any other intimate moment they had had. She realized as they walked, hand in hand freely, that the way they had gone about their relationship was unorthodox, and would continue to be, as long as it remained secret. Now she understood why Moira had been afraid to hold her hand in public. She wasn’t sure if she could go back either to pretending that Moira was merely her boss.

Knowing this, Angela was reluctant to accept Moira’s insistence that they enter the dress shop, and then her determination to pay for the red dress that fit Angela like a second skin. 

“You can always pay me back when you become a doctor,” Moira said, Angela’s worries rolling off her shoulders.

“That’s not what it’s about.”

“Do tell.” Moira was usually patient, but when it came to talking about their relationship, she wanted to get to the heart of it. Angela suspected it was a symptom of the past relationship Amélie had mentioned that had ended poorly.

“When you pay for me, it only reminds me how we’re in different stages of our lives.”

“Our power imbalance.”

Angela nodded, pursing her lips. 

Moira’s expression was impenetrable, giving away nothing as to what she thought of that, only that she was thinking, her silence prolonged. 

“I mentioned this before and you ignored my concerns,” she finally stated.

“It took time to sink in, to understand what you meant.”

Moira tilted her head and Angela was surprised that a frown didn’t tug at the corner of her thin lips. “Do you regret this?”

“No,” Angela said. She was certain. “It’s just as you said earlier today. I’m not sure if I can go back to hiding once we’re both back in the States.”

Moira covered Angela’s hand in her grip. “Think on it awhile. If it’s too much for you, I’ll accept your decision. In the meantime, I only ask that we enjoy the freedom we have now.”

So Angela left the matter there. They enjoyed the rest of the day together, relishing the warmth and closeness they were allowed in public, away from their social circle and work. Angela’s concerns about what Jack would think of Moira eased, and she became confident he would accept their relationship. He had already said he’d make a place for her at the dinner table and had asked if she had any allergies.

“Tell him ‘rabbit,’” Moira had said in response to that query. 

The smell of meat and potatoes greeted them at the door, and Jack was there in an apron and socks that went halfway to his knees. The left one had a hole from which his toe protruded. Angela made a brief note to herself to take him shopping before she left.

“Just ten more minutes and food should be ready,” he said.

Angela stepped aside to place Moira into view. She was still awkwardly standing outside, unsure if she would be welcomed. “This is Moira,” Angela said.

Without hesitation, Jack extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. Call me Jack.”

“Charmed.” Angela wasn’t certain if Moira’s reply was sarcasm or more awkwardness.

Looking Moira up and down, Jack then asked if she was one of Angela’s teachers. Uncomfortably, Moira answered that she wasn’t.

“How did you meet?” he asked, but before either of them could manage a reply, he excused himself to check on the food.

“Just say you met me at a seminar or at a coffee shop,” Angela hissed when he was out of earshot.

“You didn’t think this through,” Moira observed bluntly.

“I was hopeful,” Angela admitted, frowning.

“I’m sure we’ll manage.” Again, Angela was unsure what Moira meant by that. Her tone was cool and could have been condescending or collected and full of confidence that they would survive this evening.

Whether it was the latter, Angela would never know. The doorbell chimed behind them, and before Jack asked her to get it, her hand was already clasped around the knob. Moira's hand was holding her free one, but as the door opened, revealing the person on the other side, Angela felt her hand sharply leave hers.

In spite of the confusion and the frown tugging at her lips, Angela managed a smile. “Gabe!”

The man walked in, his steps heavy, looking past Angela to Moira, who was trying to be casual. Angela followed his gaze. Slowly her face fell. The strange familiarity of the ‘Gabe’ and ‘Gabriel’ that Genji and Amélie had mentioned finally clicked into place. However, even if she had placed where she had heard the name before, she would never have imagined it was the very same man she knew as family. 

He walked in and just like that, the paradise she and Moira had just created for themselves snapped in half.

“You look well,” Moira said conversationally. Gabe laughed bitterly and briefly touched the scars on his face, which had once been smooth and handsome.

“All these years and you still can’t tell a decent joke.”

“I’m sorry. You look like shit.”

“Surprised to see you here.” It was as if he knew that Moira was using nicities to distract him, and she looked unsurprised, as if she hadn't expected him to fall for it. They were, Angela saw in just a few words, glances, intimately familiar with each other. Angela had never seen Moira be friendly with anyone. Even with Amélie her charm had felt more business-like.

“As am I. So this Jack is the one I’ve heard about? He seems nice, a little dull, but I suppose he makes you feel safe.”

“I thought you were strangely quiet lately.” He glanced at Angela and then back to Moira. 

Angela shifted on her feet, deeply uncomfortable but afraid to say anything. She had no idea what either of them were thinking, what was laced in their words, the complexities of their deep history. 

And then Jack was there, unknowingly rescuing them from another minute of stifling tension. “Dinner’s ready-- hey!” Unable to read the air, he crossed between them and hugged Gabe.

Gently, Gabe reciprocated the hug, continuing to watch Moira over Jack’s shoulder. When Jack pulled away, he asked if Gabe had met Moira. He said he had, and for the duration of dinner, it was left at that, the unease slipped away once food was in front of them, and Angela and Jack initiated conversation. Gabe was usually talkative, except when he was eating. He only spoke more after his third drink and his plate was wiped clean. Moira however was quiet the whole way through. At one point, Angela caught her idly scraping her fork on her empty plate, pensive and withdrawn. She was the first to excuse herself, saying that she had to get up early in the morning. Angela knew it was a lie but she let it go. She walked Moira to the door only to say goodbye, without a kiss, without a gentle squeeze on the shoulder or hand.

The door closed, Moira gone, and Jack tipsy and humming as he washed dishes, Gabe was behind Angela. He had a box in his hands and concern etched along with the lines and scars on his face.

“Can we talk?” 

She heard the words before he opened his mouth. She was prepared for the worst and followed him outside to the backyard to speak in private. 

“I know what you’re about to say,” she said, wringing her hands into her lap.

“Good. Then this will be easy,” he said.

“I know there’s an age gap.” She left out that she was working for Moira too.

“I only say this because I’m looking out for you both. You’re like a daughter to me-- I wouldn’t want to see you hurt. And I’ve already seen Moira hurt. That I wouldn’t like to see again either.”

“We’re happy,” Angela said quietly. “And I’ve thought about it. What’s there to worry about?” The question was a challenge on her lips, annoyed that even though she was a grown woman, he (and possibly Jack) would butt into her business. 

Gabe gave a resigned sigh, shaking his head. “Stubborn, the both of you.” He offered the box he had been holding the entire time, wrapped in silver paper and a pink bow on top. “An early birthday gift, since you’ll be away soon.”

She took it quietly, still surly and tense. She didn’t open it until later, after he’d gone home. It was a care package filled with gift cards and a card he had signed. She set it aside to check her phone, but no one had messaged her since dinner, not even Moira.

The next morning she called Moira to check if she was awake yet. She was, but she sounded distracted and wary of going out again. She added, “Reyes asked me to meet up with him.”

Angela imagined him giving Moira the same talk he had given her last night. “When do you leave again?”

“Tomorrow.”

“That’s so soon.”

“It is,” Moira agreed, growing quiet. “I should be going. The sooner I get out of this, the sooner we can make the most of what we have.”

“I’d like that,” Angela said, sure that the worry was evident in her voice.

But when she met Moira later that night, everything felt fine. Moira didn’t mention her meal with Gabe and Angela didn’t bring it up. They kissed before a word could be said, and Moira said nothing about it during the rest of the evening. In the morning, Moira left the hotel room to her, pressing a kiss on her brow and sharing words she couldn’t register while half-asleep.

When she woke hours later, Moira was truly gone. Only the slivers of sunlight and the faint smell of cloves had stayed with her, but she knew even that would darken and fade.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains more orgasm control/denial, a short sexual scene between Angela and Lena, brief mention of water sports, rope bondage, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, vibrators, and strap ons. Whew. That was a mouthful!

There was hardly a moment’s rest from when she left Zurich to when she landed back in the States. Her apartment had been untouched in the two and a half months she had been gone, everything covered in a light sheet of dust. She had slept on the flight, but was still tired and slept more after she’d told Moira and her friends that she had arrived back safely.

She woke at three in the morning to half a dozen replies: Moira, who asked if she needed help moving back in, Genji who wanted to know if she was free for ramen, and Lena who asked if she would be free for Amélie’s party Saturday. The rest of the messages were much the same, glad that she had made it back safely. 

She was certain Moira was asleep when she replied back and received no answer. Genji’s response was unexpected. The ramen shop was closed but the cafe near Angela’s campus was open. They agreed to meet there to catch up. As she waited for him to arrive, ordering coffee against her better judgement, she texted Lena to ask more about the party.

Lena was also, shockingly, awake. It seemed like everyone was up except for Moira. 

**Lena 3:48AM**  
It starts at 8 and we’re wrapping up at 4 in the morning.

 **Angela 3:49AM**  
That late?

 **Lena 3:49AM**  
Most people leave after two. But this one might be different. 

**Angela 3:50AM**  
Different how...?

Lena explained it was a party for women and nonbinary individuals. As she described it, Angela couldn’t help but wonder if the party was Amélie’s response to the high protocol dinner that had been oversaturated with heteronormativity. She asked how Amélie and Emily were, but would have to wait for an answer. Right at that moment Genji burst through the door, moving like he had drank three expressos before heading out. His hair was longer since she last saw him and dyed a brighter shade of green. He was almost unrecognizable, but she could have known him by his vigor alone.

“Angela!” He dashed through the cafe and hugged her before she could manage to stand up to receive him.

“You’re not ordering coffee are you? You don’t need more coffee.”

“I need your help,” he said, his expression suddenly grave.

“Did something happen recently?”

“Actually, it’s been over the summer.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Angela frowned, thinking of all the blatantly cheerful text messages he had sent.

“I didn’t want to disturb you while you were visiting family,” he said. “And I hoped that things would turn out on their own.”

“Is it Zen?”

He nodded. “We’ve been meeting at my place for awhile. He’s been teaching me how to meditate and when we’re done we usually watch Netflix.”

“What’s the issue?” Angela asked, confused.

“We just watch Netflix.”

“I don’t get it-- oh. Wait, why are you turning to a ‘useless lesbian’ for advice?”

“Because everyone else just tells me to go for it.”

“Why don’t you?” 

His shoulders sagged, yet somehow he appeared an energetic as always. He was a conundrum of emotions. “I’ve tried already, but it’s not working.”

“What do you usually do?”

He regained his posture, glancing away as he thought about it. “Usually I just put my arm around a guy and we start kissing.”

“That’s what you do? That’s all it takes?”

“Usually.”

Angela suppressed the wave of jealousy that fell over her. “Have you tried anything else?”

“I’ve complimented him, bought him a tea… anything I can think of!” Genji threw his hands in the air.

“Maybe he’s not interested.” 

“That’s what I thought too, but sometimes he initiates physical contact.”

“There you go.”

“But it’s just tame stuff like holding hands.”

Angela ran her thumb along the edge of her cup. “Have you talked to him about how you feel?” 

She thought about how she and Moira had danced around each other before talking, and how she had often wished they had spoken sooner. With thoughts of Moira and their relationship rising to the surface, so did the wish that she could indulge herself after Genji had had his turn and confide in him. Her conversation with Gabe had stuck with her, and even though she had done job hunting so that Moira wouldn’t be her boss in (hopefully the near) future, she wasn’t certain that would put them on equal footing. She kept her lips in a thin, strained smile, doing her best to be supportive, knowing that she would get nothing in return. 

X

She was still jet-lagged when she returned to work on Thursday, and there was still so much to do before school started on Monday. Her life was a whirlwind of catching up with friends, Moira, re-adjusting her internal clock, putting her apartment back in order, job hunting, and in-between all that, negotiating a scene with Emily and Lena. Amélie said she would be too busy overseeing her party, but she was looking forward to watching.

Moira was intrigued also. Early on in their relationship, they had talked about how open the relationship would be. Moira was content to only have Angela, but she recognized that Angela liked to be close to her friends and that her sex drive was higher than hers. She was supportive. Her only condition was that Angela wouldn’t sleep with cis men. 

Now there was another condition, a temporary one. “You can’t come.” 

They had yet to be reunited in private, most of their conversations since Angela had arrived home in the States were through text message or over the phone. 

“Have you told Lena this?”

Angela told Lena in person, Saturday of the party. 

Lena pouted a little, but was understanding. She was not merciful, however. Telling Lena had been a mistake, in the sense that it gave her and Emily ammunition to torment her. Overall, Emily was kinder than her girlfriend; Lena gave chase when Angela would pull abruptly away, giggling and smirking like an imp. Her hands were fast and Angela found herself swatting aimlessly in the air or running herself in circles naked but safely across the room. Moira had locked eyes with her then, looking as smug as ever.

“Gotcha!” Lena caught her unawares from the front and tackled her to the floor.

“Weren’t you just behind me?!” Angela rasped, the fight gone out of her after being chased.

Lena’s teeth grazed her shoulder as she reached between her legs. “Maybe I was… Surprised you didn’t slip, seeing that you’re so wet.”

“Lena--” Angela’s voice caught and she twisted weakly. “I can’t come, don’t make me...”

Her legs began to quake, the first signs that she was about to have a powerful orgasm. Tears sprang from her eyes, afraid that against her own will, she might accidently betray her promise to Moira, and then, just as quickly as she had started, Lena pulled her hand away and sharply pinched her bottom.

Emily caught up with them then, just as out of breath as Angela was. “Remind me who was topping again?”

Lena blew her bangs from her face, her smile half bashful, half proud. “You of course, Em. I was just helping out.”

Emily knelt down and pinched Lena’s cheek. “Were you now?”

X

Emily and Lena helped her dress and led her to the couch. She wasn’t cold, but she shivered, still aroused, still so close to the brink. She drank the ice cold water to stamp out the heat inside her, but it did nothing but _build_. Her eyes found Moira and followed her as she crossed the room, shaking hands and making conversation with Amélie and her guests. Lena was curled close beside her, waiting for Emily to come back with a beer. 

“Who ya looking at?” she asked.

Angela remembered the short red hair that Lena had freed from her clothes months ago and quickly pulled her gaze away. “No one.”

Lena straightened, scanning the room, humming with an exaggeration that put Angela on edge. Then her eyes narrowed and she jabbed her thumb in Moira’s direction. Angela swallowed and a weight settled in her stomach, grounding her to contend with the flight response that was welling within.

“You know her?”

Angela didn’t reply. Her reaction didn’t seem like a reaction at all. She was very still. Lena continued, “She’s my hard limit.”

“...Why do you say that?” Angela cautiously asked. She thought she had heard herself laughing nervously, but was relieved to find it was someone else in the room sitting behind her.

“This was ages ago, but one time she had a scene with a lady-- it still makes me gag thinking about it-- where she made her sub walk around with a catheter the whole day-- we were at a kink convention-- and when the catheter bag got too full, she emptied it out in a jug. Well, come that evening she pulls out a kiddy pool and has her sub sit inside it-- and her sub is wearing this collar, you know like how dogs wear after surgery, the ‘cone of shame.’ She had her sub look up at her with the jug of piss is in her hands, and then she just... poured it in her face.”

“It’s hard to believe someone would put themselves through that,” Angela said. There were a few things in her short time in the local community that had elicited the same response. That Moira would threaten to drown someone in their own piss-- as long as they were willing-- didn’t surprise her at all. 

“I know I wouldn’t!” Lena touted, arms crossed. “Would you?”

“No,” she said, with the full confidence that Moira wouldn’t push her to budge on the stance. Months ago she might’ve wondered, before they had talked, before they knew each other well.

“Have you ever dated someone older than you?” she asked. Unbeknownst to Lena, they were still on topic.

“Amélie is older than me.”

“Is she really?”

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“I thought she was younger… Er, the same age as you and Emily.”

“We’re seven years apart. With Em, there’s just a one year difference.”

Angela tilted the nearly empty glass in her hands. The ice cubes clinked as she rotated the glass, itching to divulge her concerns to someone. “Have people ever judged you for it? The age gap?”

Lena’s eyes flashed inquisitively., “Dating a hot older gentleperson, Ange?”

She couldn’t help the blush that followed. “...Yes.” 

As Lena leaned closer, waiting for more details, she pulled back, clutching the cool, perspiring glass in her hands.

Resigning to the fact that Angela wasn’t about to divulge more, Lena sighed before she continued. “I’ve never noticed anything. People always stare at us anyway because I’m dating both Em and Amélie and Amélie is always turning heads. Guess I’m just used to it. Why, did something happen?”

“A family member found out I’m dating someone older.” 

“How much older is this person?”

“About twenty years older..”

Lena whistled. “Wow. Are they rich?”

“That’s another thing I wanted to ask about-- they keep offering to buy me things.”

“A lot of people would kill to have a glucose guardian.” Then in reply to the strange look Angela shot her, an explanation, “Like a sugar daddy or sugar momma.” She sighed, “If you’d just tell me what their pronouns are--”

“It makes me feel like I can’t give them anything back.” She finally set the glass, full of nothing but ice, on the coffee table. “Like I’m dependent on them.”

“You’re the most independent college student I know.”

“I try to be.”

“But it’s okay to accept help or a present sometimes.”

Angela turned away, her version of a shrug.

“Have you talked about it?”

“Not yet-- I wanted to talk to someone else before I did. It’s just… it makes me feel kept. Like a pet or a slave in more than just fantasy. And like I provide little as a partner.”

“You could trade with me. I could use a glucose guardian.”

Recalling Lena’s statement that Moira was her hard limit, Angela could barely contain her grin. “It’s not enough that you have Amélie and Emily--”

“I said ‘trade.’”

“I’m going to tell on you.” Angela elbowed her teasingly. 

“Tell me what?” Emily asked, Lena’s beer in hand.

“Lena is being opportunistic,” said Angela.

Emily pulled back the beer Lena was reaching for, holding it hostage. “I guess you don’t need this then.”

“Em!”

X

To be inconspicuous, Angela walked to the bus station, minutes after Moira left the same party. She was waiting for her under a streetlight, her car parked, the engine running on idle. The cigar she was smoking was abandoned when she heard and then saw Angela. There were still soft glowing ashes under her heel as they kissed under the orange glow of the streetlamp.

The kiss was quickly broken off. Angela hurried to the passenger’s side and yanked on the door handle impatiently. It was locked.

“In a hurry?” Moira’s voice was low, cunning. She made no move to unlock the door.

“I want you to fuck me so bad.” Her legs were shaking. She had never fully recovered after Lena had nearly made her come.

“To the point.”

“Please, Moira--” She yanked on the handle again and unexpectedly, Moira had unlocked it. The door flew open, knocking her off balance.

“It’s two in the morning,” Mora said, getting in the car after her. “We should wait until tomorrow. You wouldn’t want to be late for work in the morning.”

“I don’t care,” Angela said, body still thrumming. Her concerns were on the backburner, high off the scene she had had with Emily and Lena and the almost orgasm that had come with it.

“You will care.” Moira’s voice was even, and then she was thoughtful. “If you think I drew this out this long just to make you come in under a minute and be done with you, you’re mistaken.”

Angela thought about how she intended to quit soon and the job interview she had Monday after her first classes. Hopefully it wouldn’t matter soon if she missed work Sunday or came in late. At least, not to Moira. Overconfident, or young and brazen, or spurred on by the perpetual hold Moira had on her all summer, Angela made her decision without a second thought. “I need it.”

“You’re mistaken. To need something means you can’t survive without it. To want is to desire.”

“I feel like if you don’t touch me, I’ll die. I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.”

“Nonsense. If I touched you, I would only incinerate you. Or are you implying that my touch leaves you cold?”

“No, but you may be able to satiate me.”

“Again, nonsense. Your very being is fire. You consume greedily. You’re an animal.”

“Your pet.” Angela leaned closer and rested her head against Moira’s arm, careful not to disrupt her as she drove. “I’ve waited this long for you. That’s proof that you’ve tamed me.”

“Or of your stubbornness,” Moira retorted.

The fifteen minute drive felt like the slow dredges of hours, Moira tapping her thumb against the steering wheel and Angela shifting in the car seat, resisting the urge to touch herself, waiting in anticipation for Moira’s command. When the car was finally parked, they both sprang out and caught each other at the door, kissing, touching, _gripping_ before the apartment door could begin to be opened. Moira’s shred of restraint was all that saved them from public indecency, and the door was opened and closed in a matter of seconds. The lock fastened, Moira gathered herself. A darkness gleamed in her eyes, piercing the dark of the room and into Angela. Under that gaze, Angela stilled, the frenzy taken out of her.

“Strip.” Moira flicked the lightswitch.

Angela did, eagerly tossing her clothes aside, the light shining on her. 

“Pick up your things.” 

With a little less eagerness, Angela obeyed. She folded the items without being asked.

Moira offered her hand and Angela took it, following her to the bedroom. The room was bathed in soft lilac light and music played almost undetected in the background, like white noise. 

“You planned this.” Angela arched a brow.

“I knew you wouldn’t listen to me about waiting. Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’re encouraging it.”

After leading her to the bed, Moira knelt to pull the trunk of toys from underneath. The trunk was caked in layers of dust. For a moment Moira stared at it. Then she reached in her pocket for a kerchief and wiped the dust away before opening the trunk. Returning to herself, to the subject at hand, she said, “Don’t worry. I intend to punish you.”

Angela rolled onto her stomach and looked over her shoulder as she wiggled her hips. “Well, if you’re insisting.”

Moira stood to her full height. Taking Angela by the shoulder, she rolled her onto her back. “I do insist.” She took off her own clothes and drew Angela closer, reaching exactly where both of them wanted. “You’re still wet.”

“Please...” Angela pressed her forehead to Moira’s chest. 

“My patient girl. Tell me what you want.”

“Please let me come...! Moira!”

Four fingers slipped in easily, but Moira’s thumb hovered over her clit. “You may call me ‘master’ if you please. Would you like to try that again?”

Angela gasped, clinging to her. She had hoped (more accurately expected) for permission to come tonight, but not like this. It was the same as when Moira had started to use her first name instead of referring to her by her last. It was a milestone, a symbol of how comfortable Moira was with her and how close they had become. For a moment she thought she had come simply from that, but she was tired, delirious, and ridiculously happy and lusty. 

“Master, please,” she pleaded. “I want to come.”

“You will.” Moira kissed the shell of her ear and her thumb gilded deftly across her clit. “Many times tonight, _macushla_.”

She clung tighter. Tighter around Moira’s torso, tighter around her fingers. She came too quickly to fully savor it and begged for more. 

Moira smiled, knowing and prepared for an even longer evening. Reluctantly, Angela let Moira go to fetch something from the dresser drawer, and although the strap wrapped around her thigh confused her, she obeyed Moira’s order to take a seat. 

The dildo Moira had chosen was thick, but she was wet enough to take it all in, and still feeling the stray edges of her last orgasm, she reflexively squeezed and shuddered around it. She shivered more when Moira’s fingers returned to her clit. Her touches were gentle, titillating, but unlike before, Angela was graciously willing to endure the teasing, in spite of her eagerness to go on, her clit was swollen and sensitive, protruding fully from the clitoral hood. 

“Beautiful,” Moira complimented, entrapping it from both sides with thumb and forefinger.

Angela’s gaze dipped down, watching Moira’s fingers. The motions she used were similar to stimulating a penis. Then Moira flattened her hand, cupping her sex as Angela rolled her hips, riding her thigh.

Again, she came quickly.

Then a third time. She was pleased then, the electrifying waves lingered in her toes, but Moira was not done with her. 

“I did warn you,” she said when Angela protested that she was tired.

“I can’t move.” 

“You don’t have to.” Moira helped her up and laid her gently on the bed. From the trunk she procured rope and tied a hip harness to her, fitting a Hitachi wand snug against her sex. It was a plug-in model. Angela wished it was a model that relied on batteries, unsure if she could go on. 

‘You only have to endure,’ she thought to herself, and then heard Moira say from above. The scent of cloves wafted across her face. 

The vibrator hummed between her clenched legs. She twisted and for that Moira tied her arms behind her back, and then her legs too. 

‘Now you’re trapped.” 

Angela barely heard her, her breath coming quick, her mind blanking as the initial pain wore and blossomed into pleasure again. 

“That’s a good girl.” 

She smiled, hearing the praise on Moira’s lips. She wanted to call her name, to call her ‘master’ again but she could hardly muster a half a word, her focus narrowed to the Hitachi bound to her sex and the ropes that held her down. Her reactions clashed with the compliance that blanketed over her. Her body betrayed her, shifting and squirming to find a way out of her predicament.

There was a brief twinge of pain before she came, shuddering uncontrollably.

“Shall I make you come for each week you’ve withheld?” Moira stroked her face and kissed her deeply. “You deserve it after all.”

Angela shook her head. Without even guessing how many weeks summer vacation had been, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to survive it. Moira’s reward bordered on punishment. Angela chided herself for expecting anything less from her girlfriend, her master.

Angela returned Moira’s kisses, parting her lips, moaning as long fingers swept over her breasts, her sides, and her breasts again. The vibrator remained ever present through all this, thrumming persistently, a machine that didn’t care if Angela had recovered from the last orgasm. Any squirming only applied pressure to the spot. It was difficult to ignore, difficult to keep from moving, and Moira took pleasure watching her try to make herself as comfortable as possible, trussed up on the bed, vulnerable underneath her. 

“I know you can do it.” Her encouragement was biting, a challenge. Hearing Moira’s faith in her only encouraged Angela to hold on longer and she hated it. She wanted to surrender, to let herself go blank and fall numb to the sensations, but Moira wouldn’t allow her. She caressed, pinched, and bit to keep her focused and shackled to her.

“One more.” This time Moira took her in her arms and stroked down her back. Her hand stopped at the base of her spine and one finger slipped between her ass cheeks, not prodding, but gently rubbing in clean upward strokes back to the base of her spine. 

“That feels good,” Angela whispered, delirious.

Moira moved her hand away briefly. When it returned her fingers were wet. Angela’s bottom rose and fell, following Moira’s fingers. Her movements were disjointed and awkward, held back by the rope but nonetheless eager. She begged Moira to slip a finger inside her, but was told she wasn’t ready. 

The moment dragged. The more she had come, the more difficult it was to come again. She was being teased again, but welcomed it as much as she resented it. She wanted the moment to last, but she also wanted to be free. Nothing made sense. The only constant was the vibrator strapped to her sore crotch and Moira’s infallible hold on her. To let go was painful, to give was a comfort. Her grip, frail from overexertion, slipped, and she rocked, crying from the wash of relief and overstimulation of nerves. She barely registered Moira untying the ropes and washing her down with a damp towel. She opened her eyes briefly as Moira tucked her into bed and brushed her lips with a kiss. Her head rose up slightly to meet her lips but missed their mark and found her chin instead.

Moira chuckled and leaned to kiss her again.

Angela thought about setting her alarm, but she forgot or counted on Moira waking her in the morning.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hana/Sombra makes an appearance.

She woke with a start, knowing that she was late for work. Moira’s room was always dark, the dusk coloured curtains always drawn, but without a glimmer of sunlight or a clock to check, Angela was sure that she was late. And when she threw open the curtains (only to close them again, remembering her nakedness) and checked her phone, her fear was confirmed.

She was horribly late.

Inexcusably late.

Moira wasn’t in the room and the house was quiet, but there were no text messages, so Angela knew she was still in the house. Eventually, Moira would show herself. Until then, Angela took a shower, intending to get ready for work, even if half her shift was over. 

When she emerged she found her clothes from last night neatly folded on the recently tidied bed and a tray with toast and a hard boiled egg. Next to these items Moira stood, waiting for her.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?!” Angela shouted, embarrassed.

“I tried,” Moira said. “But you swatted my hand away and rolled over. And stole the covers.”

Her cheeks reddened. How foolish she had been, blaming Moira for making her late for work when she had gone to the trouble to make her breakfast. 

“I don’t have time to eat. I’m already late.” She worried that the special treatment Moira gave her had extended outside the bedroom and into their working environment. 

“If you’re already late, then you may as well eat,” Moira persuaded, spreading jam over a piece of toast. 

Angela’s mouth watered. Swallowing, she held her resolve. “What are you going to do about my tardiness?”

“Write you up,” Moira said, matter of fact. 

“And who is minding the shop with McCree? Or did he open by himself?”

Moira set the butterknife down and handed the piece of toast to her. “He asked for Sunday off. One of the part-timers was scheduled to cover his shift. As for yours... the other part-timer was already there.”

Relieved and relenting, Angela settled on the bed and hoisted the tray into her lap.

“I heard you showering,” Moira explained.

“Thank you.” After a bite of toast she apologized for snapping earlier.

“Once you finish eating, I’ll drive you to work-”

“That will be too obvious.”

“Not if I drop you off a few blocks away.”

She ate sparsely, the memory of Gabe’s lecture gnawing at her. And she hadn’t forgotten the brief conversation she had had with Moira that same day about their power imbalance. She had pushed it down until now, successful only because of how busy she had been moving back overseas, preparing for school, and filling out job applications.

Now there were no distractions, only their problems. Moira had given her no special treatment and had added her tardiness to her work record, but that wasn’t enough. 

She was tired of hiding.

“I have an interview tomorrow.” She downed the cup of juice, gauging Moira’s reaction from the corner of her eye.

“A job interview?” Moira correctly guessed. 

“I decided we shouldn’t work together. I want to be on equal terms with you, so that when I do serve you, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that it’s what we both want and not something I just feel compelled to do.”

“Is that all?” Her airy reply agitated Angela, as if her concerns were nothing.

“No,” Angela admitted. “I’m tired of hiding our relationship. Whenever I want to talk to someone about something that’s on my mind, I have to parse through what I’m about to say before I say it.”

“That can’t be all of it.”

“No,” She admitted again, eyes lowering, thinking. “When Gabe confronted me about us-- I was furious! But I still sought his approval, knowing I wouldn’t get it, and that reminded me that I always seek the approval of others. I’m worried-- what if my submission to you is nothing but that desire to seek approval?”

Moira brushed an errant strand of blonde hair from her face. Under her fixed stare, Angela sensed appraisal and shrank away. Moira’s hand fell away, respecting her space. “Do you remember the night before finals when you asked me to stop?”

“Of course.” Angela wished she didn’t.

“If you were that desperate for my approval, would you have told me to stop?

“I don’t know, but I trusted you. I knew you would stop somehow, even though it was the first time I asked you to.”

“I stopped because I trusted you too. Which would you prefer, Angela? My trust or my approval?”

Without hesitation she knew, finally. “Your trust.”

“Even if you disagree with me?”

Angela smiled, the first one this morning. “You’re not always an agreeable person, Moira.”

X

The drive was less heavy, filled with light banter and Bowie playing on the radio. Moira dropped her off at the bus stop two blocks away from the shop. In spite of Angela’s plans to quit, they didn’t risk a kiss or a brief touch, conscious of the short distance from their workplace.

When she entered the store it was deathly quiet, even for a Sunday. Tentatively, she said hello, clutching her phone as her eyes wandered the corners of the building. She started, seeing a figure near the register, but settled, chiding herself after realizing it was just the mannequin wearing a rainbow flag as a toga, wielding a dildo like a torch. 

_That’s new_ , Angela thought, before the mess of boxes stole her attention. She crept cautiously to the back, past the locker and Moira’s office, to the storeroom. She took off her shoes to muffle her steps and crept closer. Silence, and then another sound. Her hand tightened around her phone, the emergency dispatch on speed dial.

And then a low moan bit through the silence, followed by a giggle and a groan. Both voices were soft in pitch, even the huskier one. Angela’s shoulders and her hold on the phone relaxed, realizing that the two occupying the store room were fucking. She heard something in Spanish and knew enough of the language and the situation to know it was dirty talk. 

Clearing her throat and gathering the harder side of herself, she rapped at the door. The noises continued but had slowed, as if unsure of what they had heard. If that was the case, Angela knocked again to affirm that they had been caught.

“I know you’re in there and I know what you’re doing,” she said.

There were some curse words in a mixture of Korean and Spanish.

“I’ll leave you two to dress, but if you’re not out in five minutes, I’ll come back to ruin the moment again.”

They emerged from the back not long after the threat. The Korean woman’s hair was mussed and tangled, her hoodie on backwards. Her partner in crime walked a few paces ahead and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, pointedly keeping eye contact with Angela. For months Angela had wanted to meet the new people Moira had hired. Now suddenly she was wary of them and unimpressed. First impressions were everything. She wondered how Moira had accepted them for the job and if she knew they were fucking in the back room. She had a feeling it wasn’t the first time the two had done so.

“Hana.” 

“Sombra.”

They were a little grumpy after she had interrupted them, Sombra most of all. Hana didn’t begin to warm up to her until Sombra had left, twiddling her fingers in a playful wave as she sauntered out the door. Angela narrowed her eyes as she passed, distrusting, and suddenly second-guessing if she should still put in her two weeks, concerned for Moira.

The shop was quiet, as per usual on a Sunday. Hana complained, bored and unwilling to pass the time cleaning or to put together a display. “Why do we need two people when it’s this slow?”

Angela explained what Moira had told her once before: that even if she could have one person man the store, she’d rather not. If the shop suddenly became busy, it would strain the single employee there and it made it near impossible for them to take lunch and bathroom breaks. More importantly, and Angela suspected this was the real reason of them all: it helped with loss prevention. 

Still, Hana rolled her eyes, stretching and whining that she wanted to go home.

A few stray customers came in after that, silencing her for a time. Her tone was different with the customers, cheery, welcoming, and especially helpful. She insisted that she work with customers, leaving Angela to man the register.

In the lull after that, Hana showed off the Instagram account she had made for Moira’s pet rabbit Oscar while Moira had been away to visit family and Angela. Over the summer she had dressed him in tiny hats and cute clothes. 

“He even has more followers than me,” Hana said, and at Angela’s wondering look explained, “I’m kind of a big deal.” She went into detail about her streaming career.

Fifteen minutes before closing, Hana left, clocking out early. Angela didn’t let it get to her, reminding herself that she had come into work late today. She only hoped that it wasn’t a habit of Hana’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be weekly from here on.


	17. Chapter 17

The following evening, during her shift with Genji, Angela brought up how she had walked in on Sombra and Hana having sex in the storage room.

“Hana used to be a better worker,” Genji said. He had never caught them in the act himself but looked unsurprised. “Once she started working with Sombra, they hit it off and have caused trouble ever since.”

“Does Moira know?”

Genji shrugged. “Who knows. I’ve complained about them plenty. I feel bad about it though because Hana’s a nice girl, you know?”

Angela nodded, agreeing. She wanted to believe there was a shred of good in Sombra, but after seeing her walk out, smug with hickies dotting her neck, she found it difficult to. She had muttered at Angela too, calling her a buzzkill and saying that she should have stayed home.

Again, she felt guilty for her plans to quit in the near future. The job interview for a position on campus had gone well, and the hours were promising even though, she would be getting a pay cut. Genji asked her what was on her mind and she shared this with him. As expected, his face fell and he grabbed her by the shoulders. “You can’t leave me with them, Ange.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling useless.

“Why are you quitting?” 

She should have prepared herself for the follow-up question. She looked away, chewing her bottom lip, and then, hoping it would suffice, said she needed less hours so she could focus on her studies.

“Moira can adjust your hours.” At Angela’s silence, he asked what the real reason was, but before she could open her mouth, he shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Angela grew quieter, wondering if he knew already. She was glad for once that they changed the subject to his relationship progress with Zenyatta, even though the whole time she burned to tell him to just ask Zenyatta if he wanted to have sex.

The opportunity to meddle came a few days later when she saw that Zenyatta was in line in front of her at her usual coffee haunt. To stoke the fires of conversation she bought him his drink, even though the extra expense cut into her budget for this week. He thanked her and they sat together at a corner table, away from the barista counter and the long winding line of customers.

When she asked him, without waiting for the buffer of small talk, what he thought of Genji, she almost expected him to choke on his tea, but he took his time, smiling peacefully, and rested his cup, cradled in his hands, in his lap. 

“He’s a nice friend.”

“Just a friend...?” There was an edge of sarcasm in her voice, but not much, as she noted his sincerity.

“Is he not a good friend?”

At once Angela understood Genji’s problem, experiencing it firsthand. She felt almost ashamed to ask him so obtrusively. “No, he’s a really good friend,” she said.

“Something is on your mind.” In some ways he was not entirely clueless.

“Do you know he likes you?”

“Yes.” Zenyatta beamed.

“He really REALLY likes you,” Angela insisted, sure that he had misinterpreted once again. 

“But that is not what is on your mind.” Zenyatta said simply, taking a drink.

Dumbstruck or agitated that he was right, she took up her drink too and quietly sipped, wishing it was alcohol instead of coffee. “If you know he likes you, then why are you toying with him? Or do you feel uncomfortable saying no--”

For the first time, there was a mark of surprise on Zenyatta’s face. He set his drink on the table and folded his hands in his lap. “I did not realize those were his feelings. I thought he was being kind, and that he knew through our friends--”

“Knew what?”

“That I’m asexual.”

“Because of your religion?”

Zenyatta shook his head, so softly that it was easy to miss. “No, although years ago I did use that as an excuse because I was afraid of hurting others' feelings. Then I realized that lying to them was unmindful in its own right. If I hurt your friend, I never meant to...”

“You didn’t-- I don’t think. He’s just confused. I’ve tried to get him to talk to you about it, but he’s afraid to because he likes you. A lot.”

Zenyatta chuckled. “I will explain that. Thank you. How have you been? Genji mentioned a friend that was visiting home over the summer.”

“That was me.”

“How was it? Switzerland, am I right?”

“It was nice to see family again,” she said vaguely, Gabe’s words filtering through again, his disapproval of her relationship with Moira searing into her. “I... I’ve been conflicted.”

Zenyatta’s brows rose, but he said no more, waiting for her to continue. 

She continued without asking that what she was about to say should remain secret, somehow assured that he wouldn’t tell. There was an unsaid level of discretion and understanding that put her at ease, able to tell him what she couldn’t tell anyone else.

She told him about her relationship with Moira and all its complications that made her worry, then brought up Moira’s visit to Switzerland, including the brief but awful confrontation with Gabe. She asked him, almost pleading for answers, if it was wrong that she didn’t want to listen to Gabe, a man she had long respected and considered family. Was she was being rash, naive, and selfish for wanting to continue her relationship with Moira, in spite of everything?

She did not ask him his thoughts on whether she should stay employed at the shop for Moira’s sake. Deep down she knew the answer to that, her mind made up even knowing that the employees Moira would be left with were unreliable (save for Genji and McCree). 

Zenyatta listened attentively, and then said nothing at all for a full five minutes, taking everything in, as if holding the burden Angela had been carrying inside himself to understand her situation as best he could.

Their cups were drained and the line had long died down at the coffee shop. Even the baristas were silent, playing on their phones in the lull of the hour.

Finally, he said, “You’ve given this a lot more thought than you give yourself credit for. Most would be reluctant to recognize their partner’s flaws, or to acknowledge a problem, and the rest would be afraid to try to fix it.”

“Thank you, but what about Gabe? Is it wrong of me to disregard his concerns?”

“You haven’t disregarded it. You listened and thought about his words.”

“But what if he’s right and it doesn’t work?”

“May I?” Zenyatta held his hand open, palm up, towards her. It took her awhile to respond, unsure what the gesture meant, but once she realized it, she nodded and extended her own hand, catching his. He held her hand and her gaze gently. “Whatever happens, take it as a lesson. It’s only failure if you don’t try.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains face-sitting, hooded masks, strap ons, face fucking, hair pulling, and restraints.

Angela sent in her two weeks notice along with a letter, which she had charmingly named her “List of Demands,” a bid to properly negotiate the terms of their relationship outside the context of BDSM. 

“First, I will pay for my own things.” She expounded on this, mentioning how she had been uncomfortable with Moira constantly paying for things when she had visited her in Switzerland.

“Are gifts exempt for this?”

“As long as they’re given sparingly.”

Moira sighed. “This would make going out difficult.”

“I don’t mind eating in, and isn’t it more romantic to make a meal together?”

“Would you be against me cooking dinner for you more often?”

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t trust my cooking, Moira?”

“Not at all...” Moira purred, pulling her in closer. “I just can’t resist spoiling you when I can.”

Angela settled in Moira’s embrace, considering. “And if I wanted to spoil you? What would you have me do?” She thought of the presents Moira had given her and all the times Moira had covered expenses and shared the warmth of her bed. Moreover, she thought of how Moira had been willing to fly overseas just to see her for a scant two days. 

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“But I want to do something. Tell me: what makes a good day for you? And don’t say a strong cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey.”

Moira leaned back, staring at the ceiling as she turned this over. “No one has ever asked me that.”

A pang of sympathy shot through Angela and she pressed herself closer to her, watching Moira’s face as she tried to come up with something.

“What if...“ Angela’s words drifted with her thoughts, then gathered like clouds. “I made you a pot of coffee in the morning, breakfast already on the table… we’d have more time to play with Oscar together, and then...” she lost her traction, unsure what else would please Moira. 

“To have you here with me, I’m happy enough, but should I find something to my liking, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I want to satisfy you in all ways.” Angela’s hand on Moira’s knee drifted upwards. “Not just sexually.”

“Your actions are contradictory with your words, Pet.”

“Should I stop?”

“No.” Moira watched the steady trek of Angela’s hand. “Continue.”

Blindly, Angela found the clasp to Moira’s belt and unbuckled it, all while watching Moira’s face. She wanted to see how she could crumble her smugness and make her bite her bottom lip, a gasp sneaking past her clenched teeth.

The buttons were sloppily undone and finally Angela’s hand dove down her pants. Already, the silk underwear was soaked through. “Really, Moira? Were you not paying attention the whole time we talked?”

“You held my attention, Pet. As you can see it was more than you expected.” She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, content with her legs spread, still fully clothed. Angela half-expected Moira’s hips to follow the rhythm of her fingertips but she laid there, basking, leaving herself open to Angela’s caresses. 

Then Angela paused, about to take Moira’s pants off (at least halfway), when Moira grabbed her fleeing hand and pressed the tip of her thumbnail to her inner wrist. “Did I tell you to stop?” 

Angela shrunk. “No. You didn’t, Master. I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late,” Moira said, tightening her grip. Her free hand grazed the back of her neck before it wrapped around blonde locks. “

Like a cat caught by the scruff , Angela relented in the hold, a pleased whine escaping her throat.

Carefully, Moira lifted her from the couch,and urging her to follow, led her to the bedroom, keeping hold of her by the hair.

When Moira let her go, Angela wished she hadn’t, left with a tingling sensation in her roots. She watched Moira drag the toy chest out from under the bed, restless, ready, and willing for whatever Moira would pull from its depths. 

She fitted her in a face harness: instead of a gag, a double-ended dildo, with the stouter, bulbous end placed in her mouth; the remaining length was longer and blocked the center of her vision. More vision was lost when Moira pulled a hood over her face. The material was soft and Moira said proudly that it was made of elkskin. It smelled heavenly, like wood fire and old books. There were small slitted holes that she could see through, just barely. When Moira showed her reflection in a hand mirror, she saw only just enough to feel ashamed.

She was faceless, holding a phallic object pert between her lips. Moira had reduced her to a toy. Her toy. Along with her identity, she took her mobility also, slipping her hands inside mitten-like leather gloves that went up to her elbows and locked together at the wrists. Her legs were encased in a similar restraint that had tail fins at the feet, like a mermaid.

With her weakened vision, Angela saw a flash of skin followed by the soft fall of fabric that she imagined gathered at Moira’s feet. It suddenly felt hot under the mask, her cheeks burning, yearning to see Moira unclothed, to touch and taste her... 

The bed shifted as Moira joined her, hovering over her face. Angela could smell the excitement wafting off of her. She drooled, unsure if it was because she desired the taste of Moira’s sex, or because of the toy forcing her mouth to stay open. Drool spilled down her chin, her neck, and nearly met her ears. Breathlessly, she wait for Moira to mount her, hoping that maybe afterwards Moira would order her to lick the other end of the strap on clean. 

“Since you insist, I’ll make you of use to me,” Moira said, lowering herself onto the phallus attached to Angela’s face. Angela groaned beneath her, feeling her weight and her heat. She inhaled sharply and again her mouth watered, hating that Moira was in the perfect position for what she wanted but that there was so much between them: the hooded mask, the dildo, Moira’s incessant teasing. She wanted to shout, “You bitch!” but Moira had even taken that away from her. She could only make low noises in the back of her throat, and with each descent, Moira shoved Angela’s retorts further down. 

The only treat she was offered were the soft noises Moira tried to contain in the back of her throat. Moira was used to keeping quiet; even though she had moved from her mother’s place more than twenty years ago she still retained her habits. Sometimes Moira’s self control would loosen just enough that a guttural moan would slip out. Those moments were few and ones that Angela deemed precious. She wondered if she would ever be able to make Moira fully lose herself. She had embraced depravity but she was not the unbridled sexual creature that Angela was who could never contain her own noises.

Moira rocked her hips, the phallus wedged deep inside her. She taunted Angela and told her that she was touching herself. 

“Mmm you are proving your usefulness. If you keep this up, I might come on your face. It’s what you deserve.”

‘I’m not doing anything,’ Angela thought. Her body was nearly immobile. What movement she was granted was limited and tiring. But as Moira ground harder onto her face, unable to do anything about it but lie there, accepting, she realized that was exactly what Moira meant. At this moment she was an object, her toy. A toy didn’t have thoughts or worries tied to their desires. Toys were useful on their own by being pliant, under the whim of their users.

In short, Moira was telling her that she didn’t need to try so hard. 

So she stopped trying and allowed herself to be what Moira wanted her to be at the moment, unthinking instead of overthinking and only feeling. The mask was getting soaked and she closed her eyes, letting it all wash over her as she listened attentively for the bare sliver of a moan from her master as she came on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last. . . I hope you're all ready.


	19. Chapter 19

Angela waited until a week after her last day at the sex toy shop to tell anyone about her relationship with Moira.

It was a transitional period, and out of habit they didn’t immediately lock hands in public and hesitated to kiss when they greeted and parted ways with each other. Often, they stared at each other awkwardly during these moments until one of them (usually Angela) made the first move.

But when Angela finally told Genji, he was not surprised. He said that he had already suspected it-- before Zenyatta confirmed it.

“Of all the people to not keep a secret.” Angela laughed, relieved of the burden.

“People underestimate how much he sees and hears.” Genji smirked. “The first time we meditated together he said, ‘You would be surprised how willing people are to show their true selves when they think you’re not paying attention.‘ And it’s true!”

“I’m sure people just think you’re both sleeping.”

“Don’t tell Zen, but there have been a few times while we were meditating that I fell asleep...“

“I have a feeling he already knows. You snore.”

Genji’s eyes widened in shock. “Fuck. How did you know that?! Did he tell you?”

“I was joking but if you do snore...”

“...Then he knows.”

“Have you considered that he probably naps too?”

“He has mentioned once that the couch was a far stretch from the meditation mats.” And then in the next breath he asked Angela how Moira could finger her with her nails ‘that long.’”

Angela promptly swept his seat from under him. “There are other ways! And that’s not your business.”

“I’m just curious how lesbians have sex from an anthropological perspective.”

“If you were straight, I wouldn’t believe you.“

“Only half-- or thirty five percent straight.” He shrugged. “It depends.”

“On the weather?”

“And how full the moon is.”

“You’re full.”

“Of?” He arched a brow.

“I think you know.”

“Full of dick? On most days...” He winked.

Angela elbowed him playfully. She didn’t entirely dislike his invasive questions, finally happy that there was nothing left to hide.

X

“I don’t like it,” Moira said, swiping through the pictures on Angela’s phone, pictures of Oscar in hats that she had copied from the Instagram account Hana had made.

“Why not?”

Moira glanced over the phone, unimpressed and slightly offended. “It’s undignified.”

“I think it's cute.”

“If I had known she would strip his pride like this, I wouldn’t have let her take care of him.”

“If you had let McCree take care of Oscar, there would have been pictures of him wearing cowboy hats.”

Moira sighed and set the phone aside, leaning back in the couch. Angela was at her feet, massaging up her legs. Since their talk she had looked for ways to give back and had asked Satya for massage lessons. In return, Angela helped her shop for a gift for Fareeha. 

“You should take a picture of me like this, Master.” 

“Should I?” Moira arched a brow. “Are you giving the orders now?”

“It’s only a suggestion.” She was naked, her hair down and Moira’s feet in her lap, a perfect vision of submission. At least she imagined so. She explained to Moira that she wanted to see for herself, to see what Moira saw.

Moira frowned slightly. “I don’t like to take pictures.” Without explanation Angela knew it was a matter of privacy. 

“If you cropped out my face...” Angela offered, hopeful.

“And what will you do with it after I’ve taken it? If someone found it it could ruin you.” Then her frown softened and she passed Angela’s phone back to her. “As for myself, I’m already ruined. You can take a picture of me.”

Angela blushed, watching Moira pull loose her tie to unbutton the first four buttons of her shirt so she could part it down the middle, just enough to show off her handsome collar bones and the suggestion of her breasts. 

Then she wore her best furious expression, the one that made Angela’s pulse rise. Still on the floor, from the angle the picture was taken, the shot made Moira imposing as ever, a perfect portrait of the power she possessed. 

Later, when Angela was alone in bed she used the picture and the memory while she touched herself.

Moira continued to send her pictures. Some were obviously taken with assistance, making Angela wonder who Moira’s cameraperson was. 

She took her own pictures to send to Moira, but they were tamer in contrast, of her wearing a cute black dress or a quick snap of herself after a hard workout, sweat on her brow. 

Months after they had started, when Angela had long accepted that Moira would never allow a picture of them engaged sexually, she ordered her to wear the hood with the strap-on dildo attached, along with the addition of a full latex body suit that hugged her like a second skin and made her feel more like a doll or an immobile statue. Without her knowing, Moira had taken pictures of her in it-- and of Moira using her like a toy. She didn't know until the next day, after Moira emailed them to her while she was in the middle of class. She had mistakenly opened the attachment, eager and reckless, and was relieved that the students sitting behind her were passed out asleep. 

The fall season swiftly passed into winter, the university covered in a sheet of white. She didn’t resist when Moira gifted her with a pair of winter boots and a new coat, things she desperately needed that she assumed were an early Christmas gift. 

She never expected that Christmas morning she would tread down the stairs of Moira’s house to find her sitting behind the brightly lit tree, a maroon box tied in velvet ribbon at her side, waiting for Angela with the utmost impatience, ordering her downstairs. 

When Angela met her at the tree, Moira stood and ordered her to kneel. 

Then she cracked open the box and something shimmered bright under the red and green lights. At first Angela thought it might be a ring, but the box was too broad and rectangular, holding something bigger than a single ring.

Moira tilted the box and its contents in Angela’s direction. A sleek metal collar winked at her under the lights. A lock and a set of keys rested on a miniature pillow in the corner of the box.

Angela’s eyes widened. It was much much more than a ring. She kneeled forward, head bowed to Moira and pulling her hair out of the way. 

“You know what this means?”

“Yes,” Angela replied in an excited whisper. 

Moira knelt to slip the collar around her throat. She clicked the lock into place and pocketed the keys. Dazed, forgetting to ask for permission first, Angela rose up to kiss her. 

Cupping the back of her head, firmly gripping a handful of hair, Moira whispered, “Mine.”

“Yours,” Angela agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> All beta'd by my best friend forever and ever possibilityleft. She doesn't write Moicy but if you like my stuff you'll probably like her stuff too. 
> 
> To my best friend and to my readers: Thank you for being with me every step of the way writing this.


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